


Dragons Never Forget

by bluegoldrose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Betrayal, F/M, Family Dynamics, Forced Marriage, Gen, House Baratheon, House Lannister, House Targaryen, Murder, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegoldrose/pseuds/bluegoldrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhaella Targaryen lost nearly everything by the time Daenerys was born, but she lived and chose to fight the only way she could, with her mind. AU, Rhaella lives and stays with Dany in Westeros while Viserys is exiled to Essos for his safety.</p><p>Told from the perspectives of five Targaryens from 284-311 AC<br/>1-Rhaella: The Fallen Queen<br/>2-Daenerys: The Captive Princess<br/>3-Lordaeron: The Son of Two Houses<br/>4-Viserys: The Exiled Prince<br/>5-Jon: The Bastard King<br/> <br/>Written for the ASOIAF Big Bang 2015.</p><p>Beautiful artwork by the lovely HandofSilver: http://handofsilver.deviantart.com/gallery/57704898/Devious-Folder<br/>http://handofsilver.tumblr.com/post/138633035815/art-made-for-bluegoldrose-ao3-and</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rhaella: The Fallen Queen

**Author's Note:**

> This story is told from five distinct POVs, all Targaryen. Each chapter is its own POV and they all cover differing amounts of time. The beginning date is at the start of each chapter.
> 
> This story was written as part of a challenge, running from May to December which led to the story being far shorter than I am accustomed to writing. The challenge includes art made by another person which I will post a link to as soon as I know it is done!
> 
> One chapter still needs to be written and should be done by February if it cooperates, at which point the epilogue, timeline, and family trees of the Great Houses will be posted. I also will post short sections of the story that couldn't fit into the flow of the chapters at a later point.
> 
> Enjoy!

**SECOND MONTH, 284 AC**

The wind was howling as it buffeted the stronghold. It whistled and moaned through the cracks of Dragonstone. The waves of the sea broke the masts of ships which were anchored in the port and sinking many which were near the island. The swells occasionally splashed against the lower windows of the fortress. Inside, Rhaella Targaryen’s screams echoed through the halls.

_Viserys..._

She knew that he must be terrified. Her boy, her last remaining son. She prayed the gods would keep him safe. She prayed that they would protect the babe who was being born into the world. How long her labor lasted, she could not say. Hours passed as her body contracted and her child began to make its way into the world.

Mara held her hand for hours, coaxing her, encouraging her. Rhaella did not think she could have made it long without Mara. The girl was just a servant, and yet she was now her strength.

“How is Viserys?” She asked between contractions.

“He is well my lady,” Tissina, another servant, said. “He is with Alessia. She is trying to calm him.” She glanced at the windows which were shaking from the wind.

Rhaella released a heavy, ragged breath. “Good.”

Maester Loreth returned to the room with a bundle of clothes and a satchel filled with his medicines. He gazed at her with sympathy as she contracted and screamed again. She knew that the child would come soon. Part of her wished that she and the babe would die. She wished that their sufferings would end. Then she thought upon Viserys and knew that she must live. She must live for her son. She must live until the blood of her son and his children was avenged.

An hour later she cried out in relief as the child left her body and entered the world. A world which held no hope for a Targaryen.

“A girl, your grace,” the Maester told her. The girl’s cry was strong.

_Storm-born..._

Tissina took the girl from the Maester while he helped Rhaella through her delivery of the after-birth. Eventually, she laid the newborn girl in the arms of her mother.

Rhaella wept as she looked upon her beautiful little girl. “Daenerys,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from her screams. “She will bring peace as her namesake did so long ago.” She kissed Daenerys on the soft white hair atop her head. “Please, bring Viserys in to meet his sister.”

Tissina complied readily to fetch the Prince, while Maester Loreth and Mara made the room more presentable. She felt so weak, so exhausted. She placed her daughter to her breast and helped the newborn feel where she needed to latch on. Rhaella’s eyes had closed and she had drifted asleep by the time Viserys and Alessia arrived.

“Your Grace,” Mara said, gently rocking Rhaella’s arm.

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw her eight year old son looking up at her. His lilac eyes were big and tear-stained. “Come here my little dragon,” she whispered. Quite swiftly he climbed into the bed and cuddled close to her.

“Why do babies hurt you?”

She smiled sadly. “They only hurt to come out sweetling, but I am well now. I am just tired. It is quite exhausting to birth a child.”

He was staring at his sister as she slept upon their mother’s breast. “Was I so tiny?”

She had to laugh at that. Viserys had been smaller than Daenerys, to the best of her recollections. “We all start out this small, even you, even me. This is your sister, Daenerys.”

“Daenerys.” He gently touched her cheek. “Will she be my queen, mother?”

Rhaella shuddered at the thought. Never again... she would not have her children wed... never again... “Perhaps sweetling.” Thunder cracked outside the walls of the castle. Her son burrowed closer against her. She ran a comforting hand through his tangled hair. “Hush my love, we are safe. I must sleep now, but you may stay beside me as I rest.”

**********************

The storm had destroyed the remnants of the Targaryen fleet. Of the ships that survived the storm, many fled Dragonstone within the month, filled with deserters. Worse still, word had arrived that a fleet was on its way from Storm’s End.

“What news do you bring, Ser Willem?” Rhaella asked the knight shortly after he entered her room.

She was still bed-ridden after her daughter’s birth. She had been feverish for weeks. Though the fever had abated, she was still very weak.

“Your grace,” he replied with a bow. “I have heard some of the men talking about betraying you to the Baratheons when their fleet arrives.”

Rhaella closed her eyes. Would these terrors never cease? “Are any loyal?”

“Some,” he said with a weak smile. “Myself included, your grace. We can still take a ship from here, flee to Essos.”

“Essos,” she whispered. “Would that I could Ser Willem. However, Maester Loreth insists that I am not well enough to leave my bed as of yet, let alone to travel. I fear that I would not survive a journey across the Narrow Sea.”

“We cannot abandon all hope my queen.”

“No, my good knight, we cannot. This is my command to you: take my son and all whom you know to be truly loyal to my House. Flee to Essos. Raise him. Protect him.”

He was flustered by her response, his mouth gaped like a fish as he tried to find words. “What of yourself, your grace? What of your daughter?”

“I cannot leave and I will not be parted from my daughter.”

“They murdered Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys, Prince Aegon!” His passion for her family was inspiring and agitating.

She glared at him. Her words poured forth with fire. “Do you think that I have forgotten them! Would that I could flee with you, but I cannot. Go east, across the Narrow Sea. Take all of the jewels and gold you can. Pray that I may find mercy for myself and my daughter.”

He knelt before her. “I shall do as you command, my queen. Viserys will be kept safe and raised well.” He hesitated. “Will you surrender?”

“Yes,” she whispered. _May the gods grant mercy_. “They will find no fight in me.”

**************************

Mara held her hand when Stannis Baratheon entered her chamber. Mara and Maester Loreth had remained with her while Alessia and Tissina had fled with Ser Willem Darry and many other retainers as protection for Viserys. There had been no fight, no deaths, when Lord Stannis took Dragonstone. Now her cousin’s son stood before her while she cradled her young daughter.

“Stannis,” Rhaella greeted coolly. “I half-expected your elder brother to come here that he might remove my head and that of my daughter.”

He did not react to her words, remaining stubbornly grim. He seemed gaunt, as though he had not eaten in many long days. “Where is your son?”

She forced herself to maintain a neutral expression. “Gone. They took him from me one night and abandoned myself and my daughter. Her birth has left me too weak to leave my chambers and a girl was too useless for them to take it would seem. Or they believe that she will soon die as so many of my children have done.”

His jaw clenched. “Do you submit to King Robert Baratheon?”

_King? By what right is Robert Baratheon a king? Fire and blood... I would burn all of you alive if I could._

“I do not seem to be in a position to do otherwise, dear cousin.”

He flinched. Her gentle words had cut him deeply. “I will see that you are protected, my lady. It would not be right to kill a woman and her child.”

“Did your brother think of that when he murdered Elia and her children?”

“That was Tywin Lannister,” he hissed.

“And my son Rhaegar? Or my son Viserys whom you would have killed?”

For a moment he softened. “I swear to you, upon my life, that I will allow no harm to come to you or to your daughter.”

*************************

Robert Baratheon had been furious at the news that the former Queen and her newborn daughter were held in his younger brother’s custody. He had wanted all of the dragon-spawn to be destroyed. He had been enraged that Viserys Targaryen had not been with his mother. Lord Arryn had calmed him. Lord Arryn had told him that to ensure the Targaryens could not arise against the Iron Throne they must wed the former Queen to a loyal subject.

Robert had hated Lord Arryn’s suggested spouse for the former Queen. He did not trust the man. He was too ambitious, too cold, too calculating. He was Robert’s father by marriage.

Tywin Lannister accepted the proposal.

Rhaella Targaryen was not given a choice in the matter.

**********************

Rhaella arrived at the Red Keep ten months after Daenerys was born. She was brought to the Keep in a covered palanquin. Though she was recovered from her daughter’s birth, she did not have the strength to fight or escape. Where could she run? Where would she hide? Even if escape were possible, they had kept her daughter. Daenerys was being kept on Dragonstone as surety that Rhaella would incite no violence against the new King.

She kept her head held high as she was escorted to the rooms which would be her prison until she was wed and shipped to Casterly Rock. She noticed familiar servants who scurried around the castle. She saw the way they would bow to her, ever so slightly before hurrying away with their heads bowed low.

_She was still their Queen..._

She did not cry when she entered the rooms. She doubted that anyone would know whose rooms they had once been. Anyone except perhaps Tywin Lannister, if his memories did truly extend so far into their youth.

“Mother,” she whispered when she was alone inside her prison. She touched the wardrobes, tapestries, and mirrors which had not changed from the time when the room had been her mother’s. So long ago, when Rhaella had only been a little girl, she had often come to this room to seek out her mother. She wished for her now. Her mother who had died so very long ago.

She sank onto the bed and prayed that the gods would protect her last living children.

*********************

“Lord Tywin,” she murmured in greeting when they met shortly before their wedding. She dipped into a polite curtsey and looked at him, wondering how he would respond. She found a strange fasciation in watching people not know how to refer to her.

“Lady Rhaella,” he replied, cool and crisp. She should not have expected him to be bothered by her new position. Yet he did seem at a loss for what to say to her.

“You seem well my lord, rebellion becomes you.” He raised a brow but did not take the bait. “You must be proud of your daughter’s new position. I have yet to see her, but I am certain that she is a lovely Queen. I am certain Joanna would be proud of her children.”

He flinched and she allowed herself a small smile at his expense. “I am inclined to agree most days.”

“Yet they name your son Kingslayer, and your daughter usurper. I do wonder that you did not place the crown upon your own head. Aerys may have been a madman but he was not so wrong about your ambitions. Your son took the King’s life. Your daughter took my throne. Now you take me for your bride. They call Robert Baratheon the King and Jon Arryn his Hand, yet it is you who holds the power.”

His lip curled, a faint smile which she only recognized by having known the man since they were children.

“I have acquiesced to this arrangement, my lord. I shall be your wife and Lady of Casterly Rock. I shall protect the honor of House Lannister and I shall be a mother to your children with Lady Joanna. Perhaps I might even be a mother to a child whom we shall share. I ask only for one thing, my lord.”

Was it her imagination or did he truly seem impressed by her words? “What is it that you wish?”

Saying what came next with calm instead of fire took more restraint than she thought possible of herself. “The head of Gregor Clegane. I do believe that would be a fair present for wedding and bedding me.”

He hesitated. She knew that he did not want his monster to die.

She pressed again, enunciating each word precisely and with fervor. “He murdered Elia Martell. He murdered my grandson and granddaughter. The Dornish have not yet been appeased and neither have I. A gift, my lord, in the name of peace.”

His response betrayed no emotion. “I shall consider the request.”

She inclined her head respectfully, doubting his sincerity. “I would like to speak with Ser Jaime and Queen Cersei.” _Queen Cersei..._ The words tasted strange upon her lips.

“I shall see if that can be arranged.”

A soft laugh escaped from her lips. “They have nothing to fear. A knife is held at my daughter’s throat should I choose to act against the throne.”

“Indeed.”

They spoke little more before he left. Ser Jaime and his sister arrived together an hour later, three hours before the wedding. Two halves of a whole, Joanna had always said. So similar in face, beautiful compliments to one another. They reminded her of Joanna far more than they did of Tywin.

She saw in their faces the same anxieties that she had noticed in many other faces. Yet while Jaime’s visage held an amount of fear and respect, she sensed an air of entitled pride from Cersei.

“Your grace,” Jaime murmured politely, earning him a venomous glare from his twin.

Rhaella smiled. “I am afraid that courtesy now belongs to your sister, Ser Jaime. You may call me Lady Rhaella now.”

He was taken aback and lowered his eyes. “Of course, my lady.”

“It is a pleasure to see you again, your grace,” she told Cersei with a curtsey. “I have not seen you since you were a girl. You resemble your mother very much.”

The girl flushed. “Thank you.”

“It seems that I am to become your father’s wife. I wish to be a good mother to both of you if I may. Though I will be at Casterly Rock, I would have you write me with any concerns. Especially when you have children, your grace. I know how terrifying it is to birth a child when you do not have a mother beside you.” Rhaella’s offer was genuine. She recalled that she had wanted nothing more than her mother when her first child was born... but her mother had been in King's Landing that tragic day.

Cersei’s smile faltered. Did she wonder if the words were spoken truly? “I would be happy to have your support, my lady.”

“Have you adjusted well to your new position?”

She forced a smile. How much anger shown in her emerald eyes... “It is going well.”

Rhaella allowed herself a small smile at the girl’s expense. Cersei was not yet a good liar, but King’s Landing would likely turn her into one over time.

“I shall need to prepare myself for the wedding soon. Your Grace, I wonder if I may speak with your brother, alone.”

The twins shot one another wary glances. Rhaella was well aware of how uncomfortable they were with her presence. She was well aware that Ser Jaime had slain her husband. He could not have been ignorant of her knowledge either.

“Of course,” Cersei replied haltingly. “I am certain that you must have much to speak upon.”

“You have my thanks, your grace,” Rhaella responded politely, giving the young Queen another curtsey.

Cersei gave her twin one last look before she fled the room. He knelt to the ground as soon as they were alone. “Forgive me your grace.” He was on his hands and knees, not daring to look up.

She took a few steps toward him and laid a gentle hand upon his head. She needed this moment. She needed to know. “Could you have saved Rhaenys or Aegon?”

He trembled beneath her fingers. “No,” he choked out. “No, your grace. I didn’t know... I didn’t think that...”

“That your father’s men would brutally murder my grandchildren, babes whom you held and guarded? Is not your father the one for whom the Rains of Castamere weep?”

“I was with the king,” he whispered. “I...”

“You slit my husband’s throat. Why? Why at that moment and never before?” Her voice strained to keep her emotions in check. She needed to know.

He looked up at her, tears still falling from his eyes. “He was going to burn the city to the ground. There are caches of wildfire throughout the city. I... I couldn’t let him.”

She closed her eyes, knowing that the boy did not lie. Aerys had been fond of wildfire, and had been consulting with pyromancers more and more as his madness increased. “Then what you did was just.” She whispered the words, accepting the doom of her family at last.

“Your grace?”

“Aerys was a madman. You and I know that better than any other people who live. I forgive you for his death, Ser Jaime. Would that the gods had taken him from us sooner.” If they had, then Rhaegar and his children might live. Viserys would not be in exile... if only... “I bear you no ill will. You were just a boy, sworn to protect a madman.”

He stumbled over his reply. “I... I wanted to protect you. When he... the night before you left for Dragonstone...”

She smiled sadly at him and cupped his cheek. How old was he? Ten and seven at most, a boy still. “You are a good boy. Learn to forgive yourself for the things which you can not change.”

**********************

It was a strange sensation to be wrapped in a lion’s cloak. Gold replaced black. Lions replaced dragons. ‘Fire and Blood’ replaced by ‘Hear Me Roar’... Yet dragons roar louder and more fearsome, and Rhaella would always be a dragon.

Tywin Lannister’s kiss was surprisingly gentle. She did wonder if he felt some measure of guilt in making her his bride. Or was it only a sense of victory and pride?

In bedding too he was gentle. She had never known touches so soft or tender. He seemed to worship her body, though it was marked with a thousand scars. Scars from her many pregnancies and scars which Aerys had given her. He even seemed concerned when he saw how dark and thick many of the scars upon her legs and back were. “Aerys,” was her only reply to his questioning gaze.

He coaxed sounds of pleasure from her lips. Noises which she had never known herself to utter. Sounds which filled her with guilt and shame. This man had been responsible for the death of her grandchildren. Yet she lay in bed with him and submitted to becoming his bride. She found pleasure at his touches and kisses.

She could do anything so long as Daenerys was safe.

They tarried in King’s Landing several months.  Lord Stannis sent word frequently that Daenerys was safe and cared for with great attentiveness. Mara and Maester Loreth had remained as caretakers for Daenerys. Rhaella trusted her daughter in their care.

Cersei and Jaime both spoke with her during her time in King’s Landing. Their conversations were often stilted and uncomfortable, but still they spoke. Robert Baratheon never saw her, never spoke to her. The Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, often apologized for the new King. She wondered if he was apologizing for everything which had transpired against her as well.

Her belly began to swell again shortly before their departure for Casterly Rock. She could see the triumph in Tywin’s eyes as he watched her grow round with his child.

The head of Ser Gregor Clegane was laid at her feet the day she arrived at Casterly Rock as its new Lady . A gift from the Lord of the Rock to his new bride.

*********************

Lordaeron Lannister was born on a crisp, clear day in early autumn near the end of the year. He was a perfectly formed and healthy babe. His eyes were violet-green, his hair white. When Rhaella recovered from his birth, Lord Tywin began to treat her differently.

She was no longer a prisoner. She was now the Lady of Casterly Rock. He gave her charge over the household and over the children, including his young son Tyrion.

She liked the boy. He was intelligent, attention hungry, and gentle. He may have been a malformed dwarf, but she could mold him, shape him into her ally. So she became a mother to the boy no one wanted, and he responded immediately to her attentions.

Near the middle of the year, 286 AC, she won Tyrion over completely by hiding the peasant girl he had bedded and attempted to wed. Jaime had come to her about the issue, concerned at how Lord Tywin would react to news that Tyrion had seemingly eloped with a peasant. Upon talking to all parties involved, she learned that the wedding the septon had performed had not been a real marriage. The girl, Tysha, adored Tyrion. Tyrion in return adored Tysha.

It was tempting to affirm the marriage and in doing so remove Tyrion from the line of Casterly Rock, allowing her son to inherit the Rock and the West. Instead, she sheltered the girl within the household of the Rock. Tyrion and Tysha could not wed, but she would allow their trysts to continue. After all, young loves die in time. Rhaella knew that Tyrion would eventually tire of the lowborn girl. She also knew that Tyrion would be forever loyal to her from that day forth.

With incident smoothed over, her lord husband was none the wiser.

*******************************

She waited until her son was nearly a year old to demand her daughter’s return.

“I want my daughter back,” she told her lord husband when they shared a midday meal.

He looked at her, impassive. “Your daughter is a ward of Stannis Baratheon.”

“My daughter is a prisoner, held to ensure my loyalty. I have given you a _son_ , my lord, surely that is a sign of my loyalty.”

“The king still views you and your daughter as threats against his throne.”

She laughed, rueful. “I have given you a _son_ ,” she repeated, emphasizing the word son. “A son who will one day learn that his eldest brother was killed by the King. A son who will one day learn that his uncle was slain by his half-brother. If your king has anything to fear it will be from _your_ son, not _my_ daughter. Luckily for you, your daughter is the Queen. She has a young prince who could be betrothed to my daughter.”

She saw his lip curl ever so slightly. She realized faintly that it was a smile, a smile she had only seen when he looked at their son. He sipped his wine. “Joanna always said that you were cunning.”

“She said much the same of you my lord. So did Aerys, quite frequently. I do not doubt that you saw the benefits to wedding me when the match was proposed and I do not doubt that Robert Baratheon saw the downside, yet what could he do? If he had ordered my execution I doubt that he could have maintained the support of Lords Stark and Arryn. The realm would have fallen into chaos again.”

She stirred her tea, allowing time for him consider all of her words. “Instead he chose the lions. He will grow to rue that decision I am certain, but he cannot claim that I am a threat if I am wed to the father of his Queen and my daughter is betrothed to his son. It would be a start to mending the realm.”

He raised a brow. “A start?”

“Dorne rests uneasily. Highgarden supported my family until the end, no doubt they still feel the wounds of defeat. The Greyjoys will bide their time as well to see where the Baratheon regency is weak.”

“And your son Viserys is still alive somewhere in this world.”

He was accusing, but she had no knowledge of her son since they had parted on Dragonstone. “Whether he lives or not I have no way of knowing. I pray that he does live, for he is my son. I want him to live a long, happy life. The crown is not for him. He would have no support. All I want is to raise my daughter here, in peace.”

“I shall think upon writing to his grace, my lady.”

“That is all I can ask of you, my lord.”


	2. Daenerys: The Captive Princess

**SIXTH MONTH, 302 AC**

From where she was seated, alone on the third tier of the room, Daenerys Targaryen watched the revelers. She knew who some of them were, even from where she was seated. King Robert Baratheon sat at the head table beside his wife, Queen Cersei Lannister. Their eldest son Joffrey, Daenerys’s betrothed, was seated beside his father. The younger prince and princess, Tommen and Myrcella, were seated beside their mother. The tables below the King’s table contained the King and Queen’s families.

On the King’s side were seated his brothers and their wives. Lord Stannis and Lady Selyse were first, beside them was their daughter Shireen, Dany’s only friend in the world. Lord Stannis ruled the isle of Dragonstone, and had done so since he had taken it at the end of the war which was now called Robert’s Rebellion. The War of the Usurper, truly, for it had seen House Targaryen shattered and House Baratheon rising as Kings of Westeros.

Daenerys had been newly born when Lord Stannis had taken the island. He had spared her life and the life of her mother instead of executing them as the last members of House Targaryen. He had even raised Dany for most of her life, allowing her to become friends with his daughter and heir.

Lord Renly, the King’s youngest brother, and his new bride, Lady Margaery of House Tyrell, were seated next at the tables. More Tyrells were seated beside her, blending into the delegations from Houses Martell and Greyjoy.

On the Queen’s side were seated her family. Lord Tywin Lannister was seated first. Beside him was his wife, Rhaella Targaryen, Daenerys’s mother. Beside her were Tyrion and Lordaeron Lannister, the youngest of Lord Tywin’s children. There were a several more Lannister guests, then came the guests from Houses Stark, Arryn, and Tully.

The tables further down held guests of lesser houses, lords and ladies, knights and courtiers. All had gathered to celebrate the wedding of Prince Joffrey to Daenerys. They would wed on the morrow, this was just the first feast of the week. The wedding feast would be grander, and Daenerys would be allowed to attend. She was not permitted to attend this evening’s festivities for fear that she would be abducted and used against the crown. She would have thought the fear erroneous if such a thing had not happened before.

When Dany was ten and one, a small party of Dornishmen had tried to take her from Casterly Rock. The Lannister guards had been able to rescue her, but she had been sent away from her mother and half-brother that very night. She had spent the seven years since that day as a ward of Stannis Baratheon on Dragonstone. Once or twice since then some minor attempts had been made to abduct her, but no one had been able to truly approach her since that day in the gardens of the Rock.

Dragonstone was not so bad a place to live. It was her ancestral home, and the place where she had been born. Neither did she mind Lord Stannis. Between him and Lord Tywin, Dany had been given the finest tutors in Westeros for every subject she was required to study. She had been given instruction in writing, languages, music, dance, art, numbers, history, and rhetoric. She would be queen one day, that much had been decided from her infancy. Within a year of Prince Joffrey’s birth, they had been betrothed.

She pushed the food around on her plate with her knife. She wished that she could join the feast. From what she could see, it was magnificent. Banners of every Great House and many smaller Houses hung around the hall, illumined by the light of thousands of candles and a hundred torchieres. The many tables were filled with platters of fruits, breads, cheese, meats, fishes, shellfish, and many more foods. The scents of it filled the room just as strongly as the sounds of laughter and music.

Her gaolers had been kind enough to bring her the same food which was being served at the feast. Rosemary, her food taster, stood beside her quietly. The girl could scarcely have been older than Dany, but she obediently tasted all of the food and drink that had been brought to her table. There were three other handmaidens who assisted with the meal, running down to the kitchens if needed. They would travel past the guards who lined the stairs to the upper level.

Dany didn’t speak with any of them. She had nothing to say to them, and if she did, it would be reported to the King and the Queen. So she watched the feast and nibbled at the food. It was at least an hour before the feasting turned to dancing.

She wished that she could join the dancers. She wanted so desperately to be among other people. She was weary of being alone. Not that she had faith in her marriage easing the bereft feeling that never left. She would, however, gain ladies in waiting who would become her companions.

The maids faded against the walls as Dany stood at the balcony, watching the dancers. Did any of them see her? Did any want to rescue her from her gilded cage?

“Dany?”

Daenerys turned at the sound of Shireen’s soft voice. She smiled at her friend. “Hello sweetling, why did you leave the feast?”

Shireen frowned and walked to Dany’s side. “They all look at my face.”

Dany considered the younger girl for a moment. Her face, marred by greyscale which she had contracted in childhood, was not a lovely sight to behold. But having known Shireen for seven years, she scarcely noticed the scars anymore. “You are an heir of House Baratheon, the niece of the king,” Dany replied, laying a comforting hand on Shireen’s arm. “Why should you fear the stares of lesser nobles, or even less than they?”

Dany smirked at Shireen, eliciting a small smile from the younger girl. “Most aren’t so terrible. The crowned prince...”

“I have heard many tales of my betrothed’s temperament. Your cousin is not the kindest of young men; however, he is but one voice amongst many. You should seek young men to dance with who might vie for your hand in marriage.”

“Who will vie for my hand? A hundred young men would die for the chance to touch your hand. You are the most beautiful woman in the world and the daughter of...” She stopped. The conversation of Daenerys’s heritage was a touchy one in their friendship.

“I am the daughter of a madman. The daughter of the former king. Your uncle slew my brother and took his throne. Your father saved my life. Tomorrow I will wed your uncle’s son as a token of peace and unity.” She sighed and watched the dancers. Her tone brightened as she continued. “Tomorrow I shall be allowed to dance. As for you, your father should seek a good match for you. You are sweet and smart and lovely.”

“You are the only person who has ever called me lovely.”

“Then no one else sees you properly,” Daenerys declared emphatically. “Your father should seek the hand of a good man to be your bride. If he does not, then I shall demand it when I am the queen.”

Shireen laughed and wiped at her eyes. “I am so glad of you.”

“And I am glad of you.” She reached out and held Shireen’s hand, squeezing it.

They stood together for some time. Shireen would point to various dancers and tell Dany who they were. During one of the more playful songs, Dany insisted that Shireen dance with her. So together the girls twirled about on the balcony, beyond the view of the guests dancing below. They finished the dance with the music, curtseying dramatically to one another and laughing. Their laughter was stopped by solitary applause.

“That was lovely to watch, my ladies,” Lordaeron Lannister said, amusement clearly showing in his tone.

“Lordaeron,” Daenerys cried, as she ran to him. “It has been too long!”

He embraced her and, in doing so, lifted her from the ground. “Three years. It would seem I am even taller now than I was then, sweet sister.”

Over a head taller than her, she had to look up to meet his eyes. Such strange eyes her younger brother possessed. They were violet twisted with green and, by the pupil, flecked with hints of gold. Strange reminders of his heritage, violet of the Targaryens mixed with the green of the Lannisters. “Mayhaps you will stop growing so that I do not seem so small?”

“I think that I shall stop when I am taller than my eldest brother.” She forced a thin smile. He had not meant anything wrong by his statement, but it had struck a painful chord within her. He seemed to notice his mistake, for his smile faded. “My eldest, living, brother,” he amended.

Prince Rhaegar had been their eldest brother, the firstborn of Queen Rhaella and King Aerys, slain upon the banks of the Trident by Robert Baratheon. Viserys had been their other elder brother who was born of their mother. He had vanished from Dragonstone after Dany’s birth but before Lord Stannis arrived. He was said to be dead as well.

He forced a laugh to lighten the mood. “Tomorrow you will be my sister by blood, and my niece through marriage.”

She pulled away from him and walked back to the edge of the balcony. Shireen had not left them, but she allowed them space. “I shall be a princess at last on the morrow.”

“As you were at birth,” he whispered into her ear as he pressed close to her. “As all of our blood were meant to be.”

She pushed him away gently and glared at him. Such talk could get both them and their mother executed. She chose not to continue down that path of conversation. “I would expect you to still be down there with your betrothed.”

“I will be spending much of the next year with her, until we are wed. I have also spent much of the past week with her. _You_ , I have not seen in years.”

“She seems lovely from up here.”

“She is. I’m certain that you could be introduced tonight if I sneak her up here.”

“I am uncertain that my guards would be permitted to allow her entry.”

“I wonder if being the Queen’s brother will give me any sway.”

Daenerys gave a sudden derisive and unladylike snort. “I find that unlikely. You and mother have both written to me of the disdain she has for you.”

“It matters little what she thinks regarding me. I am Tywin Lannister’s son. A perfect son. Not part of the Kingsguard or malformed.”

Lord Tywin had four children, the eldest two were twins, Cersei and Jaime. Cersei was the Queen while Ser Jaime lived a life of celibacy as a member of the Kingsguard. Ser Jaime had served King Aerys, Daenerys’s father, until he had murdered the former king at the end of the Rebellion. Tyrion was the third of Lord Tywin’s children. He was malformed and stunted, but he had a quick mind and sharp wit. He was rather fond of his step-mother, Lady Rhaella. Lordaeron was the fourth and last of Lord Tywin’s children.

She rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “Who is she dancing with?”

“Who?”

Daenerys motioned to a young man and woman with bright red hair who were dancing in the center of the floor. “ _Sansa_ , your betrothed.”

Glancing down, he gave a quick reply. “Her brother Robb, the heir of House Stark.”

“I know who the heir of House Stark is.” Her reply was curt. It was frustrating to know the names and positions of people in the realm but have no idea who they were by sight.

“Though not from above it would seem.”

“Unlike you, I have never met any of the high lords and ladies in person other than the Baratheons and Lannisters.”

He rubbed her shoulders with one hand to quell her frustration. “Tomorrow, sweet sister, they will all meet you. They will behold the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros tomorrow.”

“Then I shall be locked away in my tower to breed heirs to the throne. Can mother see me tonight?”

He hesitated, frowning. “My father has forbidden her to leave the feast tonight.”

Dany clenched her fists as she stared down at the dancers. She could see her mother speaking with a dark haired man. They were alone, in one of the more secluded corners of the room. Yet her mother’s husband stood speaking with his daughter and paying his wife no mind. “Who is mother speaking with?”

She pointed to them when her brother seemed to be unable to locate the pair in the crowds. “Lord Stark,” he replied eventually.

“Does it seem strange to you that, after all our families have been through, we are to wed a Stark and a Baratheon?”

“In the name of peace, mother has always said.”

“I know, but it still seems strange. I know that my position was determined when I was still a babe. I know why mother was forced to wed your father. I don’t understand how it came to pass that you are to wed Lord Stark’s daughter. That I must wed the son of the man who killed Rhaegar is one matter. That you are to wed the daughter of a man whose father and brother were killed by my father, whose sister was taken by Rhaegar... it seems strange to me.”

“Life is strange, sweet sister.”

“Lord Tywin is looking,” Shireen interrupted.

Sighing, Dany pushed at her brother. “Go, before he bars you from the wedding.”

Lordaeron laughed and pressed a kiss to her brow. “I am his favored son, and I am the one who is to give you to your betrothed. He would not bar me from the royal wedding. However, I shall depart from you before there is any harm done. Until the morrow.”

She smiled weakly at him. “Until the morrow.”

He bowed gallantly to Shireen. “Until the morrow, Lady Shireen.”

She giggled and favored him with a dip of her knees. “Until the morrow, Lord Lordaeron.”

She watched as he walked to the stairs and past the first of her many guards. She felt her heart sink low as he descended.

“I should retire for the evening sweetling,” Daenerys said. “I am weary and we must awake early on the morrow. Will you come with me?”

Shireen smiled. “Gladly.”

***********************

She was awoken near dawn, just as the sky was beginning to lighten. The clouds were tinged gold and pink as the sun began to rise. Rosemary had woken Dany and Shireen who was sleeping beside her. Food was already prepared for their first meal. It was a simple meal, meant to satisfy their needs until the post-wedding feast. Dany ate first while Shireen was assisted with a quick sponge bath. When Shireen was done, the girls changed places.

More handmaids arrived as Dany and Shireen were dressed in their gowns for the wedding. Shireen wore dark blue silk, trimmed with pearls. The color of the cloth accentuated the color of her eyes. The patterning on the gown was simple, meadow flowers, stitched throughout the fabric. She was lovely, in Dany’s eyes. She did not understand how anyone could dislike her sweet friend.

Daenerys’s gown was also silk, but red, as dark as blood, the color of her House.  Her bodice was covered in gold lace, intricately patterned. Gems and beads were sewn in patterns upon the gown. Patterns which formed black dragons upon the train of the dress.

After that, the handmaids worked upon their hair. Hours later, during which both girls drifted asleep, their waist-long hair was intricately plaited and styled atop their heads so that it would not be disturbed throughout the course of the day. The maids styled Shireen’s so that her hair somewhat disguised her scarred face and large ears.

Dany felt strangely calm. Though she was to wed a virtual stranger, she knew that she was going to take her rightful place as Princess Daenerys Targaryen instead of Lady Daenerys. She could claim her birthright at last. She could restore her family.

It was nearly midday when they prepared to depart. A knock on the door announced the arrival of their escorts, and of Daenerys's mother. "Lady Rhaella Lannister," the guard announced.

Daenerys’s face was illumined with joy when the serving girls opened the door for her mother. Her mother’s smile was just as delighted. They embraced one another fiercely, holding on to make up for the time that had been lost. Eventually, Rhaella held Dany at arm’s length, studying her face.

"Mother," Dany cried out and then whispered as they embraced.

Rhaella kissed her daughter's brow and caressed her cheek. "You are so beautiful, my sweet girl. I have missed you greatly”

“I have missed you as well, so very much.” Dany turned to address her attendants and Shireen. “Please, give us a few minutes alone.”

They all complied, Shireen left last and shut the door behind herself.

“Three years without you is too long,” Rhaella said, her eyes studying her daughter’s face. “How have you been?”

“I have been well mother. Lord Stannis is kind. Shireen is a perfect friend; I do not know what I would do without her. But I have missed you terribly.”

"Lord Stannis has always been kind to you. From your infancy ‘til now. Never forget that he spared us from the sword." Her mother spoke with gravity, and Dany hung upon each word. She had longed to hear her mother speak again, it was as pleasing to her as fire in the hearth and water in the seas.

“I never shall. He has done us a great kindness.”

Her mother smiled. “You will be magnificent today sweetling. You will be a perfect queen one day.” Her voice dropped to a hushed yet exultant tone. “You will restore our family to its rightful place. Are you afraid?”

Dany bit her lip momentarily, before remembering that she should not bit her lips when she was anxious. “A little, though I am ready to do my duty.” She hesitated a moment. “Joffrey... he is not kind, not always. He can be kind and sweet, but he also enjoys inflicting pain upon others. Shireen, Myrcella, and Tommen have all spoken of his cruelty.”

Rhaella’s face was stony. “Your father was unkind as well sweetling. Has he been cruel to you?”

She shook her head. He had always been kind to her during the few times they had spoken. "No, not as of yet anyway. That you are his grandfather's wife may account for some of his kindness to me."

"It may, but do not doubt the power of your beauty, and your cleverness. If that is not enough, remember always that you are the blood of the dragon. We are Targaryens, we can endure anything."

"Blood of the dragon.” She whispered the words. They felt like destiny, but they frightened her. The dragons had been mad. "Was father truly mad?"

Rhaella bowed her head. "Yes."

"Did you... did you love him?"

Her mother’s sadness was palpable. "No, not in the end. By the end I felt nothing at all. When we were young we sat beside our parents and other family members as they told us stories. We had happy childhoods, until we were forced to wed. Then so many in our family died at Summerhall... That was the beginning of our fall. After Rhaegar’s birth I had no living children for many years. During that time your father grew paranoid and cruel. By the time Viserys was born he saw danger everywhere from everyone.”

She stopped, tears swelled in her eyes for a few moments before she blinked them away. “When Rhaegar... took Lady Lyanna, everyone became your father's enemy, even me, even Rhaegar. He was a cruel man, your father. Yet I still remember my brother. I remember the boy who swam with me in the pools of Summerhall."

Thinking of all that her mother had endured caused Daenerys’s heart to ache. She wondered how her mother had endured the long years since their family had been overthrown. She thought of her mother’s brother and then of her own brothers. There were so many questions to which she had no answers. "What happened to my brothers? I know Rhaegar died, but why did he take Lady Lyanna? He was already wed to Princess Elia. Was he mad as well? What became of Viserys?"

Her mother’s face was strangely blank and she did not answer for a time. "I don't know those answers. I wish that I did. I wish that I could offer comfort or closure, but I have nothing to give."

Dany should have known better than to expect answers to those questions. Disheartened, she had only one more question. She spoke the words softly, melancholy tinging her voice.  "Do you miss them?"

A sad smile flickered across her mother’s lips. "I miss them every day, with all my heart.” Her tone shifted and she released Daenerys. “Do you have any other questions sweetling?”

At first she thought to say no, then a new though occurred to her. “You said that you did not love my father.” She hesitated, uncertain how her mother would react to her question. “Do you love your husband?”

There was a strangeness in her expression, one which Daenerys could not read. “Lord Tywin and I respect one another.”

“But,” she flushed red, stumbling over the words. “Do you still share a bed with him?”

Rhaella raised a brow and took hold of her daughter’s hands. “It is the duty of a wife to share her husband’s bed. You will share your husband’s bed whenever he wills, even if you do not wish it.” Something in the depths of her mother’s eyes frightened Dany. Then it passed, and she released Dany’s hands. “If you must know, yes I do still share my husband’s bed. He has been kinder to me than your father in regards to this matter. Do you have any other questions?”

She shook her head, not certain what else to say. Her stomach churned at the thought of her impending bedding, and all that would follow. She must be strong, a dragon, no matter what.

Her mother pulled her close for a brief moment and kissed her again. Then she stiffened and became a queen again in tone and demeanor. “Then let's wed you to the prince."

"Yes mother,” Dany replied with quick bow of her head.

Daenerys surveyed the room quickly, making certain that she had forgotten nothing that she would need for the wedding. She then turned and followed her mother from the room.

She walked beside her mother and Shireen to the carriages. They were accompanied by a dozen handmaidens who would tend to them.  There was also an entourage of guards stationed along the way, lest either Targaryen forget that they were prisoners in the place which should have been their home.

They were met at the carriages by more guards, more servants, and a myriad of highborn guests who would attend the wedding. At the carriages, they were met by Lord Stannis and Lady Selyse Baratheon, with whom Shireen boarded a carriage. Also standing there was Lord Tywin and his two youngest sons, Tyrion and Lordaeron.

"My Lady," Tywin said in greeting to Rhaella.

"My Lord," she replied formally. "May I travel with my daughter to the sept? There is much a young woman wants to learn before she is wed. Questions which would best be answered by her mother."

He considered both women shrewdly for several moments. Did he not trust Rhaella after all these years?

"So long as Tyrion accompanies you," he replied eventually.

Dany noticed her mother's posture stiffen and the look her half-brother and step-brother exchanged. Apparently Tywin Lannister did not trust his wife enough to leave her alone with her two remaining children. Dany also wondered idly if Lordaeron was in trouble for visiting her at the feast the previous evening.

"If that pleases my lord," she answered coolly.

The Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock stared at one another for a few moments before he nodded briskly and turned toward the horse he would ride in the procession.

"It appears we won't be able to truly speak until we reach the Sept, dear sister," Lordaeron said with a gentle smile. He approached her and kissed her upon both cheeks. "You are the loveliest woman in the world."

"More beautiful than you betrothed," Dany asked with a laugh.

"Sansa is beautiful, and I shall be pleased when we are wed, but how can I compare her to the blood of Valyria?"

"Thank you,” she said with a grin. “Go now, dear brother, your father awaits."

He gave her a look that told her he wished to make some biting remark, but he held his tongue. "I shall speak with you later." With that, he turned and joined his father with the mounted procession.

*************************

The journey from the Red Keep to the Sept of Baelor was pleasant. She enjoyed the company of her mother and step-brother, though she would have preferred to spend more time alone with her mother. Lordaeron met them again at the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor. His duty that day would be to walk her to the front of the Sept and present her to her betrothed. It was his duty as the only male member of her House in Westeros, perhaps in all the world. At least he wasn't a Baratheon, though he was half a Lannister.

They were escorted to a chamber until the Sept was filled with the wedding guests. Her mother left them there, parting from her remaining children with a kiss each. She walked with her husband and step-son away from her children and into the Sept.

"Have I told you that your beauty is beyond any in this City, or even this world, dearest sister," he said when they were alone.

"You should tell your betrothed such things, dearest brother." Her tone remained light but scolding.

"I do," he replied with a laugh. "My nephew should tell you what I have said every day of the year, every hour of the day. He weds the daughter of dragons today, the daughter of kings."

"A madman's daughter,” was her rebuttal. “I shall be cast aside if they mislike me."

He pulled her close and breathed his words against her ear. "If they try, I shall come and raise you to the throne upon their corpses."

She shivered, yet she was uncertain what the feeling inside her at his words truly was. Was she afraid that he would do it? Was she excited that he would kill to reclaim their throne? Was she sickened that he would kill his own kin for her? Or was it just the strangeness of breath against her ear?

She pulled away and smiled thinly at him. "You are foolish."

He smiled easily, though she did not like the glint in his strange eyes. "All men at times must be fools."

She bit back her rebuke when she noticed Jaime Lannister standing at the now opened door to the chamber they were in. "Ser Jaime." Her welcome was hissed, nearly by accident. She had not forgiven him for murdering her father.

He bowed politely to her. "Princess Daenerys, dear brother." His tone to Lordaeron was scolding, while his tone to her was kind.

"Is it time,” Lordaeron asked.

"Soon enough,” Ser Jaime replied mildly. “Father seems to not trust your sister to be alone with anyone for any length of time."

"She is quite safe with myself."

Ser Jaime's brow raised. "Safe from a sword, I do not doubt, though you may not want to hold her so familiarly around her waist. Men have lost hands for far less."

Lordaeron laughed. "Shall I not be permitted to show my dear sister affection?"

His lips flitted into a peculiar smile. It seemed strange to Dany that he should smile. "You are Targaryens. No one has forgotten that, not even our father, for a moment."

The half-brothers stared at one another in silence for some time, Ser Jaime solemnly grim and Lordaeron fiercely angry.

"Neither have we forgotten who we are, dear brother. Dragons never forget."

"Be careful with your words, dear brother. I should think that your betrothed would like you to still have a tongue when you are wed."

Whatever her brother's retort would be was stopped by the arrival of a septon. "My lords, my lady, it is time for you to be brought forth."

"You have our thanks, septon," Dany replied sweetly. Her brother and Ser Jaime both mellowed into more placid demeanors as they all walked from the room to the main chamber of the Sept of Baelor.

The walk was a short one. Ser Barristan Selmy, of the Kingsguard, joined their group, walking ahead of Daenerys and Lordaeron while Ser Jaime walked behind them. They were the last two members of her father’s Kingsguard, guarding her as she walked to wed the son of the man who killed their Prince.

She clung to her brother's arm, digging her nails into his forearm to quell the tide of anxiety which coursed through her body. Today she must wed. Somehow, in spite of all the effort that had been put into readying her for the day, the reality of what she was doing did not hit her until they walked into the main sept. For it was inside that they were met by the stares of several hundred lords, ladies, knights, and courtiers. There was scarcely room to move in the chamber.

Were there swords in the room looking to kill her? Would she be killed? Would all of the guards fail herself, her mother, and her brother so that her House would be extinguished?

Would all go well?

They arrived at the front of the room where her husband to be stood, arrayed in cloth of gold, red, and black. How like a Lannister he seemed. There was no trace of his father in his visage. The King, and his brothers, all possessed bright blue eyes and thick black hair. Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella, and Prince Tommen all had the green eyes and golden curls of their mother.

She did not hear the words of her brother when he gave her into the arms of Joffrey Baratheon. She could feel the gaze of the crowd. Did they hate her? Did they love her? Would anyone try to slay them? Would she be taken captive by separatists?

She spoke the words of the marriage vows. She did not feel her mouth move as she spoke. She felt a strange sensation as the crowned Prince removed her maiden's cloak, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, and replaced it with a cloak bearing the emblem of House Baratheon of King's Landing, a crowned stag and lion combatant. She was now part of the Houses which had murdered her father and eldest brother.

He pressed his lips to hers and smiled as he pulled away. Such a sweet, gentle kiss. _But his eyes are cruel._

"My lady," he said with a smile. "I am now wed to the most beautiful woman in the world."

"And I to the most valiant man," she replied with a gentle smile. He preened like a bird at her words.

He took her by the hand and they receded down the steps to thunderous cheers and applause.

At the base of the stairs, the king and queen awaited. They bowed low to their graces and were then raised and kissed by the king and queen. Then they followed his parents from the Sept.

She was relieved that they entered the carriage without incident. She was now alone with her new husband. The king and queen had parted to their own carriages.

"Why are you so fretful, my lady?"

He was looking at her hands as she twisted them together and her eyes darted everywhere. She forced a small smile to her lips and stilled herself. "I feared that some may seek to harm you, my prince, or myself."

"They would not dare touch either of us." His eyes were hard, fierce, like Lordaeron's. "If any would seek to harm us, they shall die."

"Fire and blood," she whispered, unthinking.

She feared that he would rebuke her, but instead he smiled. "I have always liked the words of your House."

********************

The guards had yet to truly vanish from her, she realized, when they were seated at the feast. A row of guards stood behind their table. Would they ever leave? She supposed that until she was bedded that they would haunt her steps. Could she dance? Would they allow her that freedom at her own wedding?

Seated at the head table, the food tasters still tried every meal. Every sip, ever nibble of food was Rosemary’s to try, just in case. Dany pitied the poor girl. Thankfully, the food was harmless and finely prepared. Daenerys and Joffrey shared from a common cup. He fed her from his own hand. They were quite a show for the court, full of affection and fawning.

Looking down at the tables, Daenerys observed the various faces. Some were merry. Some seemed ready to retire to sleep. Some seemed placid. A few were clearly unhappy.

Queen Cersei was among those who were unhappy. She glared frequently and drank heavily. Daenerys could not blame her for her unhappiness with a husband like King Robert. The king was old and fat, his chair was larger than any other just to support his mass. King Robert only laughed when he began to drink and, once he was drunk, began to grope the serving girls while everyone watched. Dany pitied the girls. She pitied the Queen.

Joffrey glared then, his face reddening when he looked at his father. His expression seemed to mirror his mother. Strange that the prince and his siblings bore no resemblance to their father.

At a table further down sat Lord Stannis and Lady Selyse with Shireen. Dany hoped that her own marriage would not be so unpleasant as theirs, or the King and Queen’s, or her own parents. The Lord and Lady of Dragonstone sat stiffly beside one another, their expressions were far too somber for a wedding. Shireen, seated by her father, at least attempted to smile and seem cordial to the people who were seated with her.

Perhaps Lord Stannis was just unhappy with his younger brother. Lord Renly and his wife were seated at the same table. They seemed to be a boisterous and jovial couple. He would kiss her frequently and caress her belly, where her child grew. If the rumor was true, her child was not Lord Renly’s, but a bastard of King Robert. Rumor held that she had been the King's mistress for half a year before her sudden marriage to the King's brother. Her pregnancy so soon after had only leant support to that rumor. Dany suspected that the rumor was true. For it was oft said that the Tyrells reach was always higher than their grasp.

Lady Margaery’s father, mother, and two of her brothers were seated at the next table on that side of the room. They seemed like a mirthful group, laughing gaily at the celebration. Beside one brother were two young children, a boy and a girl. That brother’s wife was there as well, chatting merrily to all at her table.

Further down, on the same side, and beyond what Daenerys could see clearly, were the guests from House Martell and Greyjoy. Their parties were both small, and untrusted. The Martells likely still desired vengeance for Princess Elia, Prince Rhaegar’s murdered bride. As well as for her two babes that were murdered when King’s Landing fell to Lord Tywin and King Robert. The Greyjoy party was led by Lord Theon Greyjoy. He had been raised at Winterfell by Lord Eddard Stark after his father had risen in rebellion against the Baratheon regency. Lord Balon Greyjoy had died a year past, and Theon was raised to his father’s seat as Lord of the Iron Islands.

On the opposite side of the room were seated the Lannisters, Starks, Arryns, and Tullys. It was strange to Dany that four Great Houses, five if House Targaryen still counted, would be bound in marriage one to the other the following year. That particular series of alliances had begun during the Rebellion, when Lord Hoster Tully had wed his daughters Catelyn and Lysa to Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Jon Arryn respectively. The kingdoms of the Riverlands, North, and Vale, along with the Stormlands under the command of now King Robert, were able to defeat the Houses which allied with House Targaryen. Lord Tywin had not joined the battle until the very end, sacking the city of King’s Landing and killing all of Daenerys’s family who were within.

Lord Tywin was somber, as always, his bearing was commanding. He reminded Dany of Lord Stannis, though without any kindness. Her own mother was seated next. She was polished and poised, a perfect queen. She was regal in her bearing with her silvery locks left mostly loose around her neck. Dany could only wish to be half as magnificent as her mother.

Tyrion was next, seated beside his betrothed. She was of age with Daenerys, named Jeyne, from House Westerling. That Tyrion was betrothed at all both pleased and surprised Dany. She had always assumed that Lord Tywin might reject Tyrion’s inheritance so that Lordaeron might inherit the Westerlands. Lordaeron’s betrothal to Sansa Stark was a much more powerful match.

The Princess Myrcella was seated between Jeyne and Lordaeron. She had spent the past two years living at Casterly Rock. The Queen had not been happy to have her daughter live away from her, but she had acquiesced to the wishes of her father and step-mother. Myrcella often wrote to Shireen and Daenerys, and spoke of her happiness at Casterly Rock.

Lordaeron and Sansa were seated next. They were laughing and jesting with Tyrion, Jeyne, and Myrcella to one side and Robb Stark and his wife to the other. From time to time, Lordaeron would kiss Sansa sweetly and chaste upon her lips. She, in turn, would blush and smile at him with adoration in her eyes.

Lord Robb was also very affectionate toward his wife. Her name, Dany had been told, was Lyra. She was a daughter of House Mormont, so far to the north that their island floated amongst fields of ice in all seasons save summer. She was with child, and due to birth rather soon if the size of her belly was any indication.

Brandon Stark, called Bran, the fourth born of the Stark children, was seated next. Beside him was Prince Tommen. The boys were squires together at Riverrun, and had been living there for three years. Shireen had told Dany that Tommen and Bran had become fast friends while living in the Riverlands. Just as his sister found happiness away from King’s Landing, so too had Tommen. It was good for him to be away from King’s Landing. The young prince was too often a target of unkindness on the part of his brother.

Beside them, Lord Eddard Stark seemed rather solemn and uncomfortable, though he did smile cordially at his children and brothers by marriage. Lord Stark’s wife and other children were not at the feast. They had remained at Winterfell while Lord Stark and his eldest two children had come south for the wedding.

Lord Edmure Tully and Lord Jon Arryn were seated beside Lord Stark so that the three men might speak with one another throughout the feast. They were all very different ages, the three Great Lords. Lord Arryn was very old, he had fostered Lord Eddard and King Robert when they were boys. Lord Edmure was around thirty years of age, still a rather new lord after his father’s death four years prior. Lord Arryn was Hand of the King to King Robert, as he had been since Robert’s installation on the throne.

That they were still close after Lady Lysa’s execution five years earlier was a positive thing. Lady Lysa, rumor held, had been involved in an illicit relationship with the former Master of Coin. Both lost their heads when the matter was brought before the king. A year later, Lord Arryn’s son, Robert, came to Dragonstone so that he might foster under Lord Stannis.

Daenerys was not overly fond of Robert Arryn. She and Shireen often avoided him in the halls of Dragonstone. He was a weak-willed, whimpery boy of ten years. In truth, he had improved under Lord Stannis’s guidance, but not enough for Dany to be fond of the motherless boy. Robert Arryn was seated by his father, next to Edmure’s wife Eleanor as well as Edmure and Eleanor’s young children. They seemed to be getting along well, a good thing, in Dany’s eyes.

Hours into the feast, the Lords and Ladies of the court came forward to greet and offer their best wishes to Danerys and her new husband.

Her mother and Lord Tywin were first to speak with them. Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella followed afterward, offering quick words of joy to Daenerys and Joffrey. Then came Lordaeron with Sansa Stark. Tyrion Lannister followed them with Jeyne Westerling. Lord Renly and Lady Margaery were next, offering sweet platitudes. Lord Mace Tyrell, his wife Alerie, their sons Garlan and Loras, as well as Garlan’s wife Leonette and their children Rohanne and Eustace followed Lady Margaery. Willas Tyrell, the eldest son of Lord Mace and Lady Alerie had remained behind at Highgarden to govern while the rest of their family had travelled to King’s Landing.

Dany misliked the smiles of the Tyrells.

She was congratulated cordially by Lord Stannis and Lady Selyse. Dany thanked them for their kindness in raising her. Shireen also greeted them kindly, though Joffrey did not seem interested in his cousin’s kindness. Shireen had often told Dany of how Joffrey liked to mock the scars upon her face. While they faced one another, Dany wished that she could escape from the crowds with her friend.

Lord Arryn and his son Robert greeted them next. They were followed by Lord Edmure Tully, his wife, and their daughters Minisa and Carellen. Then came Lord Stark with Robb, Lyra, and Brandon.

"I wish your graces good health and the blessings of the gods in your union," Lord Stark said in greeting. He had a kind voice, Dany thought, deep and solemn to match his face.

"Thank you, Lord Stark," Joffrey replied. "My bride and I shall see this country to a new era of peace and prosperity when I come into the throne."

Stark bowed respectfully. "That is the greatest hope of our people, your grace."

Dany looked to him as he was about to walk away. "Lord Stark?"

"My Princess?"

She felt sorrowful for him; he had lost much at the hands of her family. It would be good for her to acknowledge that fact. "I am sorry for the troubles your family endured during my father's reign."

A strange, sorrowful expression clouded his face. "You have nothing to forgive, my princess. Your father's deeds lie in the past. This day begins a new era for our country. I spoke with your lady mother of the past, some years ago, so that any wrongs between our Houses may be amended."

"Is that why my half-brother is to wed your eldest daughter?"

He softened at that, a gentle smile lighting across his face. "It is."

"I look forward to their union." She smiled at him, pleased that he had responded well.

"As do all in my family." He glanced to Sansa and Lordaeron who were fawning over one another again and shook his head with tired affection. “My daughter is overjoyed to be marrying your brother.”

Dany giggled. "My brother is quite fond of Lady Sansa. Where is your lady wife? I had hoped to meet her. Lordaeron has written to me quite often of your wife and of all your children."

"She has remained at Winterfell to govern in my absence and to watch over our children who remained in the north."

"You have seven children if I recall properly?"

"Indeed, three sons and three daughters with my wife, the youngest is three years of age. I also have a natural son.”

“Jon, correct?”

“Yes, your grace. He is here, in the castle, though not at the feast this evening. He serves as a knight at Casterly Rock, in service to your mother.”

“I believe that Lordaeron has mentioned him in several of my letters. They are quite fond of one another. I am certain that Sansa will be pleased to have a brother near her when she moves to Casterly Rock. Mayhaps I shall meet all of your children at Sansa and Lordaeron's wedding next year?"

He bowed his head in agreement. "That is our plan, your grace."

They finished their greetings and the next party came forward, consisting of Lord Theon Greyjoy, his wife, his sister Asha, and her husband. They were polite and formal, offering congratulatory platitudes as so many others had done.

The final delegation to come forward was from House Martell. They were two men, one elder and one younger, with black hair and eyes. The elder’s face was scarred, his greying hair formed a sharp widow’s peak, and his eyes were hard. The younger man was close to Dany’s age. His face was plain and sober, he reminded Dany of Lord Stark in nature.

"Your graces,” the elder man said. “I am Prince Oberyn Martell and this is my nephew, Prince Quentyn, acting ruler of Dorne whilst his sister the Princess Arianne visits their mother in Norvos."

"Gracious Princess, it is an honor to at last behold your face," the younger said, a shy smile on his lips. She liked his smile, it was honest.

She smiled softly at him. Her cheeks hurt from smiling at so many people that day. "Such gracious words, Prince Quentyn. I hope that you may find some comfort in the peace this marriage should bring."

While she had liked Prince Quentyn’s smile, she did not like Prince Oberyn's, it reminded her too much of a cat waiting to pounce. "Peace has a high cost, little princess."

She stiffened and felt her husband straighten beside her. "I know what it has cost, Prince Oberyn. I am sorry for all that your family has lost. I do believe that the men who were guilty of shedding the blood of our kin were executed by Lord Tywin, were they not?"

"Indeed,” he breathed the word airily as though it were not enough. “Gregor Clegane's head was a bride gift for your mother. Amory Lorch's head was a gift for your half-brother's tenth name day. These have not been forgotten."

She kept her voice calm but firm. "Then I bid you good day, my lords. Please, enjoy the feast."

"To your healths’, your graces," Quentyn replied with a trepidations smile.

When they passed from the table, Joffrey leaned to her ear. "When I am king, such men would lose their tongues for their insolence."

Shaken, she could not help but agree. "Some men would deserve it, my husband."

He pressed a kiss to her hand. He seemed to enjoy the violence she hid within. Could she maneuver him so that the kingdom was hers? Could she win the hearts of all the people? Could she bring her brother, if he lived, home?

"Shall we dance, my lady," he said quite suddenly.

She smiled at him. "I should love to, my lord."

Disregarding any more who would welcome her to the court, her new husband led her gently by the hand to begin the dances. She felt alive on the dance floor, with all eyes beholding her. She was their queen, their true queen, as she had been born to be.

She flitted between partners in the dances, speaking briefly with all whom she partnered. Some lusted for her beauty and some lusted for her name. Some sought her claim. Some despised her name. Yet she shone above them all, their future queen.

She danced only once with Lordaeron. She knew what he sought. He lusted for the crown, for glory, for the name of his mother instead of the name of his father. He thought himself to be the rightful king and her as his true queen. She trusted him least, of all the wary eyes in the room, in some regards.

Yet when the bedding was called for, Lordaeron was the one to shield her and protect her. When all of her clothes were stripped away by the bawdy revelers, he was the one who prevented unwanted touches and gazes. Not once did his hands wander inappropriately. He was her shield, her protector. Her only brother left in the world, except maybe Viserys.

**************************

Joffrey had not been cruel in bed. Selfish, yes, but not unkind. He had found pleasure in her, though she had felt little toward him. She thought that she could grow accustomed to bedding him. He had clearly enjoyed bedding her. Perhaps she could truly win his heart?

He had left her mid-morning, returned to his chambers so that he might prepare for the day. Her handmaidens bathed her, dressed her, plaited her hair, and readied her for the next feast. At this feast, gifts would be given to herself and her husband.

She did notice, upon leaving her chamber, that she had fewer guards. Was being bedded all it took for her value to decrease? Of course it was... any who sought to take her wanted her body and her name. Now that she was truly a woman wed, stealing her was less desirable.

The midday meal was much smaller than the previous feasts. Only royals, lords, and members of the small council attended. The wedding gifts were extravagant. Some gave jewels, some gave arms, armor, books, cloth, looking glasses, horses, and a thousand more gifts of beauty and great cost.

Rhaella's gift to Daenerys meant more to her than any luxury bestowed upon her and her husband. In addition to the jewels and sword that Lord Tywin and Lady Rhaella gave, her mother gave her a gold signet ring. "It was my mother's and hers before that, for three hundred years." Cut into the ring was a three-headed dragon, her sigil, her birthright. No other gift was as precious as that ring, not until the gifts were nearly at an end.

Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers both now and during the reign of King Aerys, brought forth a chest of gold and rosewood, carved with great intricacy and care. "A gift for your graces from a friend in Pentos, upon the occasion of this most royal marriage."

The chest was laid upon the table before them by two servants. They moved the lid aside to show the treasure within, the sight of which made Daenerys and Joffrey gasp. Inside the chest, upon a bed of thick furs, were three dragons eggs, large and shining as jewels. One egg was black swirled with red, a second was cream mixed with gold, and the third was green streaked with bronze.

"How dare you bring such things into my court," King Robert roared, while everyone else was staring speechlessly at the eggs.

Varys bowed low, his voice placating and obsequious. "Your grace, if you will pardon me, they are but cold stone. Their value is beyond measure. A single egg is worth a fleet of ships, three eggs could buy the Seven Kingdoms."

Dany held her breath, even as her hand lay upon the eggs. The king eventually relented, seeing the worth in the eggs. The eggs remained beside her as the final gifts were presented. Yet Daenerys could not still herself after the eggs had touched her skin. Her eyes sought Lord Varys, her mother, and Lordaeron, surely there was a reason for this gift beyond what he had said. For the eggs beneath her fingertips were not cold, lifeless, stone, but felt as warm as summer and fire against her skin.


	3. Lordaeron: The Son of Two Houses

**TENTH MONTH, 306 AC**

Lordaeron Lannister strode as quickly as he could away from the council room. He was glad that the meeting ended when it had or he would have likely found himself swiftly thrown into the dungeons, or without a head. The young king walked, thankfully, in the opposite direction. Lordaeron couldn’t decide which King he hated more, Robert or Joffrey. King Robert had been a loud, lazy, lascivious drunk who cared little for anyone save himself. Since Robert’s heart failed two years prior, Joffrey was proving to be a loud, petty, vicious brat. Lordaeron had never felt the urge to plant his fist in Robert’s face while he frequently felt like decking his nephew.

Near the end of the hall, he glanced back to see the rest of the council leaving the chambers. Lord Stannis seemed just as angry as Lordaeron felt. Lord Renly seemed vaguely amused. Grand Maester Wallis appeared to be unconcerned with the matters of politics. Lord Varys’s face was as unreadable as ever.

Lordaeron’s brothers, Tyrion and Jaime, were the next to leave the room. Jaime attended as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard while Tyrion was the newly appointed Master of Coin. Tyrion’s appointment came at their father’s command. Lord Tywin was the Hand of the King and Grandfather to the King as well, yet it was he who held the Kingdom in his hand, not Joffrey. He was also the reason why Lordaeron was forced to sit in the council meetings.

In truth, most days Lordaeron was not bothered by sitting in the council meetings, nor did he mind living in the Red Keep. He enjoyed living where he could see his family regularly, well, most of his family. Spending time with his mother was always a pleasure. His father’s presence tended to always be formal. His opinions of his siblings varied. He had one sister who loved him and one sister who scarcely recognized that he existed. His relationships with his brothers were more cordial.

He waited for his brothers as they walked toward him. Their father left the room last of all, but he walked in a different direction from the way they walked. Lordaeron found it fascinating to watch his brothers. Jaime was so tall, bold, and proud, yet he would slow his steps to match those of his brother whose height was surpassed by young children.

“Dear brother,” Tyrion said as they drew closer. “I am surprised that you waited for us.”

“You are my brothers,” he replied. “My irritation is not with you. Though I wonder how long I must hold my tongue with him.”

“Forever if you wish to keep it,” Jaime scolded.

Lordaeron smiled viciously. “Was that what you did when my uncle was king?”

That did it; that sparked the fury which he held within. Jaime took a step closer, his fists clenched. Tyrion stepped between them. “Yes,” he hissed.

“Even when you killed him?”

Tyrion pushed at them, trying to keep them apart, though he only stood as high as their waists. A low, guttural sound sprang forth from Jaime as his fists curled and released. “Your uncle was a monster. I only wish that I had killed him sooner. But I did not, I remained silent as he committed horrors you do not even wish to imagine. We _all_ remained silent.”

“Then you _do_ think I should speak up against our dear... nephew?”

“I scarcely think that our _King_ is a monster,” Tyrion soothed. “He is cruel and petty, with a vicious streak to be certain, but he is not so lazy or drunk as Robert. He has also never burned men alive as Aerys. He has not struck Queen Daenerys nor has he left her bed for another’s.”

Lordaeron began to laugh. “To hear the day you would defend Joffrey.”

“Anything to keep the two of you from hitting one another.”

Lordaeron stepped back, his hands upraised in a gesture of conciliation. “Why would I ever have cause to strike a brother?” Neither of his brothers seemed particularly convinced, but for the moment all emotions were reigned. “I shall take a walk, I think. I shall see both of you tonight for the evening meal.”

He turned from them and walked away, knowing the only place where he would find solitude. Long ago, when he had first come to the Red Keep, his brothers had shown him two different places where he could hide away from everyone. One place was an out of the way tower room. The other room was hidden away in the dungeons.

At times like the present, when reminders of his heritage made him feel out of place, he could only find peace when he was alone. Rarely did people speak of his birth, but their thoughts were present in glances and whispers. He had tried to ask Jaime about Rhaegar once, only to be met with terse replies. His mother was always obstinately quiet when it came to the subject of Rhaegar, Viserys, and Aerys. Then one day when he was about fifteen, and Lordaeron had found himself out of place in the Red Keep, Jaime walked him to an abandoned chamber of the castle. It was filled with dust, cobwebs, and hundreds of paintings.

"Robert ordered them all taken down when he took the throne, but for the sake of posterity they were kept whole instead of destroyed." Leading him further into the chamber, Jaime pulled aside the linen cloth which lay across one of the paintings. "Aerys," he had managed to choke out when pointing at the figures in the image. "Lady Rhaella, Rhaegar, Viserys, Elia and Rhaenys. This was painted shortly before the war began."

Jaime had left quietly a few moments later. Lordaeron had sunk to the dusty carpet, staring for hours at the images of his family. His uncle, long dead, killed by Jaime. His brother Rhaegar, killed at the Battle of the Trident by King Robert. Elia and Rhaenys who had been murdered by his father's men. This was the madness of his legacy. He was two sides of a bloody war. His mother and father, enemies. His brothers and sisters in opposition to one another.

He had looked to Viserys last, just a boy in the image. Did he still live? Was he now a man grown? Was he full of hate? Was he happy? Had he died as a child, exiled from home and family?

He had stood hours later, tears blurring his eyes. After standing, he had looked through more of the paintings. There were more of his mother, brother, and uncle. He had found some paintings of his grandparents and other forbearers, three or four generations back, long enough to forget his branch and glorify the Baratheon line.

Tyrion had shown him the other room, down in the dungeons, hidden away. Tyrion had found the room on his own, but had been kind enough to show Lordaeron the hidden chambers. That was where Lordaeron was going now, down to the dungeon where the skulls of House Targaryen’s dragons lay hidden away.  Much as Jaime had left him with the paintings, so too had Tyrion left him alone with the dragon skulls.

When the shock of standing before skulls of the dragons which his ancestors had ridden upon had faded, he had flown into a blind rage. Unthinking, he had foolishly punched the largest skull, which succeeded in doing nothing to the skull while bruising his hand. He had wept then, more fiercely than he ever had before or since.

Lordaeron had shown Daenerys the dragon skulls soon after moving to the capital. Her reaction had been more intense than his own. She had fallen to the ground before the skull of Balerion as reverently as she would bend before the statues of the Seven. She had wept upon her knees for many long minutes. When she had calmed, she had caressed the skull as though it would break at the slightest breath upon it. When she touched the skulls he heard her whisper to herself, as though she were alone. “Alive, alive with fire, just like the eggs.” When he had asked her what she meant, she had refused to speak upon what she had said.

Most of Lordaeron’s anger had dissipated by the time he made it to the isolated dungeon. He had acquired a torch along the way, which he placed in a sconce within the dank cell chamber. The anger would return, he knew, when he saw his nephew again.

He pressed his palm to the smooth skull of Balerion, feeling the cold bone against his flesh. He felt the familiar sensation of heat being pulled from his hand, as though the ancient bones wanted any heat they could find. It seemed to him that if they were placed with a great fire that they would return to life.

“Would that you still lived,” he told the bones which his ancestors had ridden into battle. “We would not be in any danger now. My mother’s family would never have lost power.” He laughed bitterly. “Though I would never have been borne were that the case.”

He belonged to two Houses by birth yet truly to no House. He was proud of his heritage most days, yet there were days when it brought him only shame. His mother’s line was made of kings and queens while his father’s family was the wealthiest in all of Westeros. But his father had been instrumental in bringing his mother’s family to ruin, this fact was seldom lost on Lordaeron.

Truly his life was no so terrible.

His parents were strict, though they were no harsher than they believed necessary. They had trained him to be an expert swordsman, a statesman, and a scholar. His mother had taught him caution and wisdom. She had taught him love where his father showed only duty. They were never in love, he knew, but they held one another in high regard, showing respect even though they lacked affection. Not that he expected more from them, considering how their marriage had come to be. To think that his mother had been forced to marry his father after all that she had gone through in the Rebellion... her strength was more than he could comprehend. He did know that his parents drew some level of comfort from one another, they did still share a bed at times.

His aunt and uncles were all kind, though he was rather convinced that his Aunt Genna liked him least of all his father’s children. He had loved his Uncle Gerion, as far as he could remember, but Gerion had been gone so long that he was a fading memory.

He loved his brothers and they loved him. Though he and Jaime were likely to disagree more often than not, Jaime had been the one to train him with a sword. Jaime was the one who upon rare moments would talk about the glory of the Targaryen Court. Tyrion was the brother in whom Lordaeron confided. They were the closest in age of their father’s children. Tyrion taught him to think, to look beyond the obvious and past what people said to the heart of the matter.

Tyrion shared with him the sense of not quite belonging to their family. Out of all the sons of their father’s house, they were the only two who had not been permitted to travel the Free Cities when they had come of age. Though as a consolation they were permitted to travel the capitals of Westeros.

At times their friendship had been tense, especially when Lordaeron realized the implications of his betrothal to Sansa Stark. She was the daughter of the Lord of Winterfell and a Lady of Riverrun. The match was powerful. She had been betrothed to Lordaeron at the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion, when they were both quite young. Tyrion on the other hand had not been betrothed until long after he had come of age.

His relationships with his sisters were quite different than the relationships he had with his brothers. He had almost no relationship with his Cersei. She often acted as though they did not share a father. Lordaeron often thought that he might have felt some pity toward her unhappy marriage if she had ever treated him with kindness. He did understand her misery with the drunk, fat, lecherous man to whom she had been wed. Lordaeron had found King Robert’s waste of resources deplorable and his treatment of women abominable. Unfortunately, some of those traits were shared by Cersei, and passed on to Joffrey, though not to Tommen and Myrcella it seemed, thank the gods.

Of all his siblings, he was fondest of Daenerys. He wished that they could have spent more of their childhoods together. As it was, the years they had spent together as children and now as adults had been wonderful. They had run through the halls and caverns of Casterly Rock when they were children. Now they would walk through the many halls and gardens of King’s Landing.

He loved her most of all, his mother’s daughter. She was by far the kindest of all his brothers and sisters. She was gentle and always polite. At times he had been jealous that she would be the Queen. A part of him had wanted the throne, but the longer he spent in King’s Landing the less he found the throne appealing. What his ancestor Aegon the Conqueror had ever seen in conquering an entire continent he could not say.

His sister’s marriage was changing her. Her smiles grew dimmer as the years passed. Her laughter grew dull. Her marriage which had once been happy, now grew strained. Any affections which Joffrey had shown toward Daenerys initially seemed to be fading more as the years passed. Oh he still enjoyed parading Daenerys around as though she were a trophy, but he now tended to make bitter remarks toward her. Now married for three years, and recently ascended to the throne, everyone expected Daenerys to produce a son and heir. Instead, Daenerys had borne three daughters. So great had been the disappointment on the part of Robert, Cersei, and Joffrey that they did not care what the girls were named. So Daenerys had named them. The twins, born a little over a year after Dany was married, were named Rhaelle and Daena. Elaena had followed a little over a year later.

The Queen was with child again. Part of Lordaeron wished that his sister would birth a son this time to appease Joffrey, while another part hoped that she would have only daughters so that his nephew would never be happy. Lordaeron had no fondness of his nephew, brother-by-marriage, and King. He was a petty and vindictive young man whose fondness for violence was troubling. He had not raised a hand to Dany, not yet, but Lordaeron feared the day he might. For he would kill Joffrey if he ever hurt Daenerys.

Lordaeron thanked the gods that his mother had found him a perfect match. He had never thought to find a woman so beautiful and loving as his Sansa. She was everything he needed and more.

Thinking of his wife calmed him. He stood, dusting his clothes of the filth which lay on the floor of the dungeon. He walked out of the chamber and out into the daylight. He walked across the castle grounds to the rooms where he and his wife resided. Their rooms were spacious, and possessed a sweeping view of King’s Landing. They lived near the castle kitchens, close to Tyrion and Jeyne’s chambers. His sisters both had chambers within Maegor’s Holdfast along with the King and the royal princesses. His father and mother lived within the Tower of the Hand and his brother Jaime lived atop the White Sword Tower as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

When Lordaeron arrived at his rooms, he paused in the doorway. Sansa was there, her long red hair was pulled behind her back in a simple braid. Her more complex hair styles had become more infrequent since their son’s birth. Not that Lordaeron minded, he rather enjoyed running his fingers through her hair, which was easier when loose or in a simple style. At the moment she was kneeling upon a cushion while watching their son. He toddled to her from where his toys were mostly gathered and she scooped him up, kissing him and laughing. Lordaeron smiled at them, willing the perfection of the moment to last.

With a sigh and an easy smile, he stepped into the room. Arthas saw him first. “Da!” The little boy shouted, pushing himself away from his mother and running as quickly as his two-year-old legs would carry him. Lordaeron scooped him up and tossed him lightly, eliciting giggles from the boy. He kissed his son before placing the squirming boy upon the floor.

“Careful with your mother, son,” he scolded gently, kneeling so that he was on level with him. “I do not think that your new brother or sister should like to be jostled so much.”

“Sister?” He gazed up with wide violet eyes. “I want sister.”

Sansa giggled from where she sat upon her cushions. “I shall endeavor to try sweetling.”

“If not, I am certain that we can start calling one of my sister’s girls your sister.”

Sansa glared at that while Arthas merely seemed confused. Lordaeron chose to ignore her glare and smiled at his wife. “Has Arthas seen the girls today?”

She nodded in the affirmative. “All three are taking a nap at the moment. Arthas should as well, though he seems rather resistant to the idea.”

He laughed. “He is ever my son.”

“Indeed. Your mother has told me that you always refused to nap. It seems our son is doing the same.”

“How is Dany, I have not spoken to her yet today?”

“She is well. This pregnancy has left her rather tired, so she is resting while her girls sleep.”

“Play?” Arthas interrupted, holding a ball out to his parents.

They both laughed at that. “As my lord commands,” Lordaeron jested.

For the moment, all conversation to catch up on the day’s events ceased while they both entertained their son. He loved moments like this. Still moments in the storm when he could just be Lordaeron, husband and father, instead of a scion of two Great Houses, brother and uncle to the Queen and King. He loved his son’s laughter. He loved the way Arthas possessed physical traits from all four of the Houses to which he was born. He loved Sansa. He loved her quiet strength. He loved her gentle spirit. He loved the way her body changed when she carried his child. Her face would soften. Her breasts would grow fuller. Her belly would gradually swell. He loved all of it. To him, she was perfection. He had not known that love could be so deep and all-encompassing until he had fallen in love with his wife.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Sansa probed quietly, disrupting Lordaeron from his thoughts which had wandered back to the council meeting.

Reluctantly he answered. “News from abroad.”

“Shall we take Arthas to the nursery so that you and I can speak upon the matter?”

He nodded slowly, though he did not truly wish to part from his son. He rose, allowing Sansa to rest upon the cushions, and walked to the wall. He pulled upon the cord which would ring the bells to summon their attendants. Jaina and Katria arrived quickly, smiling as they usually did when they saw Arthas.

“Please entertain Arthas in his nursery while Lady Sansa and I talk,” he said quietly, not wanting his son to hear that he was being taken away. While the boy was usually well tempered, of late he was fond of having a temper when being taken away from Sansa.

“Of course, my lord,” Jaina replied quietly, also well aware of the routine.

“If he does not calm after ten or so minutes, Ser Jon should be able to attend to his nephew. He should be in the training yards.”

“Mayhaps the little lord will not cry this time,” Katria said, hopeful.

“We shall see.” He turned to his son, who was busy pulling Sansa’s hand so that she would walk where he willed, though she was not particularly cooperative. “Arthas, can you go with Katria and Jaina? They want to show you something in the nursery. And after that you can go for a walk with them.”

He looked up skeptically. “Da and mama come too?”

Sansa frowned kindly, an expression she reserved only for children. “No sweetling, your father and I need to talk.”

“No! We play!”

“Arthas,” Lordaeron warned.

The toddler curled his fists together and frowned deeply. Katria spoke up gently. “Do you want to visit Ser Jon, little lord?”

“Jon?” He seemed to be debating.

Sansa smiled brightly at that. “Yes, Katria and Jaina can take you to see Uncle Jon. Do you like that idea?”

When his internal debate ended, Arthas turned to Jaina and held up his arms. “Jon!”

The handmaiden grinned and scooped up the boy. “Yes little lord, we will go to your uncle.” She and Katria bowed politely and excused themselves from the room. Arthas said “bye, bye” to his parents as he left.

“I love your smile when you look upon our son,” he told her when they were alone. He walked to her and embraced her.

“And I love yours as well.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “What troubles you?”

He released a weary breath and walked with her to one of the couches. “More of the usual. Father warns of trouble on the horizon while the King shows no interest in any politics. The king has also offended Lord Stannis again.”

“What happened?”

 “He mentioned the idea of removing Stannis from his position as Master of Ships and removing Dragonstone from him.”

Sansa was aghast. “Why would he do that?”

Lordaeron bit his tongue for a moment. His first idea of a response was not particularly kind. “His grace is full of ideas which are filled with youthful impulsivity.”

“Daeron,” she implored.

“He said that he finds Stannis to be boorish and wants to restore Dragonstone to his heirs as was the tradition of House Targaryen. He said that it is unlikely that Shireen will continue the family line, so why not remove it sooner.”

“I hope Shireen and the Queen don’t learn of that.”

“I’m certain that they will. You know how much the king enjoys taunting Shireen.”

“Poor dear. Dany is looking for a betrothal for her.”

“I know. Were it not for how much they adore one another, Dany would have sent Shireen with Princess Myrcella. Myrcella has grown quite fond of Casterly Rock.”

He smiled. “Of that I am glad. My _dear_ sister was loathe to send her children away. Tommen is doing well at Riverrun as well.”

“I know! Bran wrote to me saying that they are planning to ride to Casterly Rock soon to visit Myrcella.” She paused a moment, excited. “Mother wrote as well. Arya’s wedding went well.”

“She didn’t run away?”

“Daeron!” She pushed away from him, shocked. “Of course she didn’t! She happens to be very fond of her husband. She and Ben are both as refined as wildlings half the time.”

“Mayhaps they will be more refined when they one day take their places as Lord and Lady of House Tallhart of Torrhen’s Square.”

“Mayhaps,” she agreed. “Mother said that Arya was the loveliest girl who has ever been wed before a heart tree.”

“It is good then that you were not wed before a heart tree or you would have that claim.” He kissed her lightly and she smiled. “I know that you would rather have been there.”

“I miss them,” she murmured, laying her head on his chest. “I never imagined how much it must have hurt mother to leave home. I never thought I would miss them so much.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We can visit them when the new babe is old enough to travel more easily.”

“If I do not fall with child again,” she countered, laughing.

“Mmm,” he sighed into her hair. “I would not mind that either.”

She tilted her head up to him and he bent over her to press a kiss to her lips. “Can we travel even if I am with child again? I should like to see my family again, and I know they would like to see our children.”

“I shall make every effort for us to visit them soon.”

“Thank you my love.”

“For you I would do anything.” He meant that with every fiber of his being.

She nuzzled close under his chin. “What else troubled you today my love?”

With a sigh he told her more. "It is said that the Golden Company is amassing a fleet."

"The Golden Company is always fighting for one city or another, aren’t they? Why does this concern Westeros?"

"It seems that they are coming here."

"Why would they come here?”

"The Golden Company was founded by the Blackfyres, you will recall, bastards of King Aegon IV. The line male lines died out when Maelys I Blackfyre was killed in the battle of the Stepstones by Ser Barristan Selmy. Since that time until now they have had no king, just commanders. It is said that they now serve a new king."

She sat up, curious. "Who?"

He paused, still reeling from the news. "My brother, Viserys.” She gaped at him, speechless. “There is more. The report also said that they serve my nephew Aegon.”

“Aegon?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Prince Rhaegar’s babe? But he died here, during the Sack of King’s Landing.”

“He was very young and what Gregor Clegane did to him... no one was brave enough to look upon what remained. None in the council chamber truly believes that the man is my nephew Aegon, but the claim of Viserys no one doubts. On top of that, there are rumors that the Martells are allying with them."

"The Martells? Why would they act against the crown?"

"Revenge for Elia and her children.” The oldest story in the world. No one would be satisfied without the cycle of blood continuing. “It is said that Princess Arianne did not die in a shipwreck when returning from Essos, but rather that she joined my brother and nephew."

"Why would your brother and nephew fight the crown? Daenerys is the Queen, the Targaryens are restored."

"Are we? Peace was bought with marriage vows, but not for my brother. He was old enough to recall his parents. No doubt he is angry at being exiled. If he learned that our mother remarried and that I exist.... one can only imagine his anger at that."

"Oh my love... Were any issues made about you or your sister?"

That was why Lordaeron had left the council chambers in such a rage. "The usual suspicions, though father was keen on reminding my nephew that all Targaryens in this realm are part of House Lannister. Dany was raised in isolation so she has no contact with our brother. I certainly do not."

Sansa pressed her lips tightly together. She took a long while to form her quiet question. "Does Lady Rhaella?"

He prayed the gods she didn’t. He shook his head. "Unlikely, she would not risk the two of us she has here."

"Hopefully the rumors are false."

"Gods willing they are."

******************

The rumors were not false. Within three months, with the birth of Sansa’s second son still being celebrated, the Golden Company made landfall in Dorne. The Dornish welcomed the armies with open arms, and raised their banners in war.

In King’s Landing, some bannermen were already gathered in anticipation that treachery might come from the south. As soon as word arrived that the Golden Company had truly landed in the south, preparations were made for war. All loyal men were called to serve their king, though with the harvest reaching its peak, lords were reluctant to send their people to the King.

Lordaeron entered his chambers after a long session in the council chambers. He was not fond of the newest preparations. He found Sansa nursing Elric while Arthas played on the floor. He scooped up Arthas, kissing his son’s golden hair. He seated himself beside Sansa, placing a kiss upon her cheek.

“What news comes from the council, my love,” she asked.

He didn’t want to answer. The news pained him too deeply. His words came slowly. “It is the decision of the King and my Lord father that some of our household must be returned to Casterly Rock.”

She looked at him, fear showing in her beautiful eyes, eyes which she had given to their firstborn. “Do they fear the Golden Company so much?”

“No, not especially, but father believes it wise to send the noblewomen from the city as a precautionary measure.”

“I shall be returned to Casterly Rock with our sons.” She stated the words, knowing there was no question in the matter.

“You, our sons, my mother, Cersei, Tyrion with Jeyne and their son, Daenerys’s daughters, and Shireen will all be sent to Casterly Rock. Lord Robert Arryn will be travelling with you as far as Riverrun where he will remain with your cousins. Lady Margaery and her son will be travelling to Highgarden. Lord Renly will be travelling to Storm’s End to gather his bannermen.”

“Will her grace remain here?”

He gave her a wan smile. “The King wants to see his child when it is born.”

She frowned, shifting their son to her other breast. “She should be safe with the rest of us at Casterly Rock.”

“She will be safe enough here. I will protect her, as will Jon.”

She startled. “Jon is remaining behind?”

“Yes, my love. This is a time of war, he is a knight.”

“I know.” She pressed her lips tightly together. “He has been the only family I have been able to see for so long. I will miss him.”

He squeezed her hand. “You will have time to speak with him before your departure.”

“Daddy go bye bye?” Arthas asked.

“No sweetling,” Lordaeron replied, his voice thick with emotion. “You and your mother will soon be taking a trip to my home. Grandmother and Uncle Tyrion will be going with you.”

“When?”

“Within two weeks,” he said as he turned from his son to his wife.

“You come?”

“I will come to you later,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to his son’s head and sliding the boy to the floor.

*************

Two weeks were coming swiftly to an end when a cryptic note arrived at Lordaeron’s chamber. He was to go to the chamber of the dragon skulls, an hour past midnight. He had seldom in his life had mysterious late night meetings, and in those cases he had always known who the other party would be. In this instance, though the handwriting seemed familiar, he was uncertain whose hand had written the note. When the hour arrived, he slipped from his wife’s bed and dressed quickly. He made certain to slip his dagger into its sheath on his waist.

Candle in hand, he made his way across the castle and then down to the dungeons where the skulls of his ancestors dragons were laid. Of all the things he imagined meeting him in that room, the sight he beheld had never crossed his mind. Seated in the chamber upon cushions he discovered his mother and sister. Before he could muster words for his confusion, Jon Snow arrived in the room seeming just as puzzled.

“You are all here at last,” his mother said. “I know you all have questions but the longer we stay here the more we are at risk.”

Daenerys spoke first, distractedly stroking her every growing belly. “Why did you want us to come here, and so late at night?”

“There are things that I need to tell all of you before I depart tomorrow.”

Jon bowed low. “My lady, shall I wait outside while you speak with her grace and Lord Lordaeron?”

Rhaella’s lips turned in a queer smile. “Ser Jon, I did have a note sent to you did I not?” She hesitated before speaking again. “I do not know whether or not speaking to the three of you this night is wise, but I believe that it must be done. Viserys, my son, rides to war against you, my children. I had desired better for Viserys. Even when I sent him into exile I prayed fervently that he might be at peace. It seems that my prayers were unanswered. Now he comes to make war against his own blood.”

“They say that Aegon lives and rides beside Viserys,” Lordaeron said. “Would they not be the true heirs of our House?”

“House Targaryen fell sweetling. What has been rebuilt has been with blood and tears. Neither you nor your sister would have a place within a kingdom run by Viserys. Your children would be threats to his own. Your marriages have forged strong alliances, which was no mistake. Viserys has only Dorne to lend him aid. As for Aegon... I believe that my grandson died here when King’s Landing fell. Too many saw his remains for me to believe otherwise. This boy from Essos may seem convincing to the Golden Company, but I will not believe the word of a company of sell-swords.”

“Mother,” Daenerys asked. “Why have you gathered us here?”

Their mother straightened and breathed deep. “A secret was given to me many years ago. I made peace with a great many things that day and have worked toward this end ever since. Should there ever be enough support for House Targaryen again, Viserys would not be the true heir. Rhaegar’s son would be the true heir of our house.”

Lordaeron raised his eyes in confusion. “But you just said that Aegon died.”

“I did, but I did not say Aegon, I merely said Rhaegar’s son.”

“Rhaegar only had one son,” Daenerys informed. “And one daughter.”

“No sweetling,” Rhaella said softly. “Those were his children with Princess Elia, but they were not his only children.” Her eyes moved to Jon. “There was one more child, a son. A boy so precious that he was hidden where he would be safe. He was never told the truth of his birth.”

Daenerys, Lordaeron, and Jon looked at Rhaella, perplexed.

“Ser Jon,” Rhaella continued. “What do you know of your mother?”

Jon, whose discomfort was palpable, took a few moments to respond. “I know nothing of her, my lady.”

Rhaella bowed her head for a moment, as though she prayed to the gods before choosing her next words. “Your father told me of her. We met for the first time at the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion. My lord husband trusted me by then and had no worry concerning a discussion with King Robert’s dearest friend. We both offered condolences and apologies for the losses we had suffered during the war. We made amends, for truly we had both been wronged and lost ones we loved dearly at the hands of others. It was late in our conversation that he spoke to me of his sister, the Lady Lyanna, and of her condition when he found her. She died in his presence, having been ill for some time and to him she entrusted her legacy.”

She stood, pacing the room with a slow gait before turning back to face her children. “Lord Stark thought it right that I knew the truth and from that day on I have worked hard toward the goals of my House. I fought for your throne, Daenerys, my sweet daughter. I helped forge your marriage, Lordaeron, my son. I brought you into your position, Jon, my grandson.”

Her pronouncement stunned them all into silence. Jon in his shock merely shook his head.

“Rhaegar and Lyanna's son?” Lordaeron feebly asked, when he found his voice.

“How can you say that,” Jon choked out. “He took her and raped her…”

“Who told you that,” Rhaella hissed. “Surely not Lord Stark or he would have said the same to me.”

“I… no,” Jon stumbled over his words. “He never spoke of his sister. It was the men at Winterfell who said that tale and King Robert.”

Their mother shook her head tiredly. “Rhaegar took her, and wed her by Valyrian custom. Lord Eddard believes she was somewhat complicit in the matter, though Rhaegar deserves the blame for his foolish actions. Lord Stark could say nothing of this to anyone, ever. He told me so that I would feel at peace. I worked toward your knighthood so that you could serve within my house and I could know you.”

“Why tell us,” Dany asked.

“Because if ever you need allies you know where to look. House Stark is blood bound to Arryn, Tully, Lannister, and Targaryen. There is strength in these alliances, more than I think you understand. Use these allegiances to you advantage at all times as I have done.”

Lordaeron was reminded of the crest of which was his sons’ Lannister, Targaryen, Stark, and Tully quartered on a shield. Daenerys who was for all intents and purposes wed to Lannister and Baratheon. What did Viserys and Aegon have? Dorne, but precious little else would they have. And should some Targaryen loyalists appear more would side with whomever Rhaella chose.

“My lady,” Jon asked quietly. “What am I to do with this knowledge?”

Rhaella walked to him and gently cupped his cheek. “You are to make wiser choices than your forbearers. You are a man grown and this knowledge was not to have been hidden from you forever. Use the knowledge of your birth wisely if the time should come. If the time does not come, know that your family has loved you and always sought your best interests.”

“Hey,” Daeron said, walking to Jon and placing a friendly hand on his arm. “This means my children are now your cousins and you are my nephew.”

Jon laughed though his tone was bitter. “I think I liked you better as a brother.”

“Aye, you're still that too. It's not like we can very well tell anyone this bit of news.”

“What shall we do about Viserys?” Daenerys asked, pensive.

“Hope that he is wise enough to end this war before he is killed,” was Rhaella’s weary reply.

“But, he's my brother. Do you not love him?”

“Oh sweetling. I love him as much as I love you and as much as you love your girls and the babe you carry now. He will die if this war continues. I would rather he live in Asshai and be safe than be here and at war. I cannot keep all of you safe, but I must do whatever I am able. To that end I give you one more piece of knowledge. Throughout this city are hidden caches of wildfire, remnants of Aerys kingship. Ser Jaime knows where some of them are hidden. If necessary use the wildfire to your advantage. Know also that there are hidden passages throughout the Red Keep which can help you escape the city.”

Lordaeron knew of the passages, his mother had shown them to him soon after they arrived. “I remember where they are, mother.”

“Teach Jon and Dany where to go in case of an emergency.”

“I will mother.”

“Then I believe it is time for us to depart. Daeron, please escort Daenerys safely to her chambers. Jon if you would kindly do the same for me?”

Ser Jon complied readily, taking Lady Rhaella, his grandmother gently by the arm as they walked from the room. Lordaeron followed with Daenerys a few minutes later.

*************

Waiting was, in many ways, worse than watching his wife and children depart. They would be safe, Lordaeron knew, but he longed to be with them as much as he longed for some purpose while waiting for the armies to amass. Lord Tully and his bannermen were among the first reinforcements to join the men of the Crownlands and Westerlands at King's Landing. The Lords of the Vale came next, under Lord Royce’s command as little Lord Arryn was still a child. The Lords of the North were the last to arrive, under the command of Lord Stark and his eldest son.

Surprisingly absent were most of the lords of the Stormlands. While Lord Renly had left some time past, he and his armies had yet to return. Neither had any support come from the Reach.

***************

“Hold King's Landing in my absence.” That was the command of both his nephew, the king, and his father, the King's Hand.

So Lordaeron watched as the lords and knights of the northern kingdoms rode south to face the traitors of the realm. To face his half-brother and nephew in battle. They did not want him to ride forth, instead he was to watch and wait. Jon had ridden to battle as well, beside the men he called father and brother. Lordaeron wondered what conversations they would have now that Jon knew of his birth. None of them had quite yet come to terms with Lady Rhaella’s revelation. Jon was Rhaegar's heir… What use was that knowledge if it were kept hidden? What could it be used for?

Lordaeron had little to do while the armies were away. He attended to matters of court and visited with his sister while awaiting news from the south or from Lord Stannis Baratheon's fleets in Blackwater Bay.

Two months later the armies returned, battered and bearing ill news. The Tyrells and Renly Baratheon were traitors, bearing arms with Dorne and the Exiled Dragons. The southern armies were regrouping while the northern forces, loyal to the crown, were making their stand at King's Landing and the border of the Stormlands and Reach.

Fallen in battle was Lord Edmure Tully. His son Jason now the child Lord of the Riverlands.

It was Jaime who brought graver news to Lordaeron and Daenerys. Dark were the circles beneath Jaime’s eyes, accentuating the lines of age. His cloak was filthy, tattered, and stained with blood. He was hardly presentable to be before the Queen, but the news was urgent.

“Father, Lord Tywin, is dead,” he said without preamble. “The king lies gravely wounded. Our enemy, the princes Viserys and Aegon still approach from the south.”

Lordaeron stared at his brother, bereft of words. Father couldn't be dead. He couldn't…

Daenerys was the first to speak. “If the King should die, will the people accept myself as regent for Princess Daena?”

“Against your own nephew and brother,” Jaime replied. “It is difficult to say. Especially with the words that Lord Renly is spreading throughout the camps.”

“What has he said?”

Jamie hesitated a long time before speaking. “He has spread word that the King's Grace is a bastard, born of incest between Lady Cersei and myself.”

Lordaeron snapped his eyes to his brother while Daenerys breathed sharply.

“It's true isn't it,” she asked after mulling over his words.

Jamie slowly nodded his head.

Lordaeron could see the pieces of the puzzle take form in his sister's mind. “And who knows the truth of this?”

“Anyone with eyes can see it, your grace, though I assume you wish to know people who know for a certainty rather than suspect. Lady Rhaella was among the first to know; she has kept our secret. I doubt that my father ever knew. My mother had seen things when my sister and I were young, but she died birthing Tyrion and the secret went to her grave. My brothers know as well, though I rather think Tyrion told Lordaeron.”

Lordaeron confirmed his brother's suspicion with a curt nod of his head. His father couldn't be dead.

She glared at Lordaeron. “Yet none of you sought to tell me?”

“The danger is too great to tell anyone,” Lordaeron replied. “Though there are whispers.”

“Such rumors are why Lord Petyr Baelish and Lady Lysa Arryn were executed,” Jaime said. “Your mother had been working for your crown your entire life, your grace.”

She looked long at Jaime and then at Lordaeron. “Should my husband the King perish from his wounds, and if this news is brought to light, will my daughters’ claims be supported?”

“I do not know, your grace.”

She bowed her head briefly and the cast a hard gaze upon Jaime. “Bring Lord Stark and Ser Jon Snow to me.”

“I will do so at once, your grace.” With a bow, Jaime turned and left.

Dany held out a hand to Lordaeron and he drew near to her, clasping her hand.

“I am so sorry for your loss.”

He bowed his head, speechless.

“Why did you and mother keep this truth from me? Why allow me to wed him?” Her tone was both angry and consoling.

“Mother wanted one of us upon the throne,” he answered quietly. “She was glad that Joffrey is not Robert's. She didn't want you to marry the son of the man who murdered our brother.”

“My children will have no inheritance if this is known. We will lose the support of the other Houses. I will lose my crown. And if we deserted for Aegon and Viserys I do not think it would go well for you or my girls or our mother.”

“Then we need another option.”

“Jon,” she murmured. “That is why mother told us about him.”

“Joffrey still lives…”

“For now.” She gazed at him coolly. Did she wish him dead?

“For now,” he agreed.

They remained quiet while they waited for Jaime to return with Jon and Lord Stark. Lordaeron found his head swimming with doubt, confusion, and a tinge of pain. His father, dead. Joffrey wounded. His half-brother and nephew making war. His secret nephew the true king… Unless the man calling himself Aegon was truly Rhaegar's son.

When Jaime returned with them, Daenerys ordered Jaime stand outside and guard the door while she spoke with Lord Stark and Jon.

“I am glad to see that you are both well,” she said after both men had bowed to her. “My condolences, Lord Stark for the loss of Lord Tully. I know that you were fond of your wife's brother.”

“Thank you, your grace,” Lord Stark replied.

“Are your sons well? I know they rode to battle with you.”

“They are, my queen.”

“Is Prince Tommen well? Ser Jaime forgot him when he told me briefly of the losses which were suffered by our people.”

“He is well. He is visiting with the King.”

“Have you spoken with the maesters regarding my husband's health? Will he live?”

Lord Stark’s lips pressed hard together, more somber than he had been at the start of their meeting. “The maesters are reluctant to say many things. I have, however, seen his grace. I am afraid, my queen, that you may soon be widowed. He was injured quite severely. If he had been closer to the castle at the time he would have been better tended to, but as things stand…”

She raised a hand for him to quiet. “I have been told that a rumor was spread throughout the armies regarding my husband and his brother and sister. What do you think of this rumor?”

He seemed reluctant to reply.

She pressed her lips together, knowing that he too was in on the lie. “Is this secret so well known that only I was hidden from the truth? Tell me Lord Stark, how long have you known?”

“Lady Rhaella told me on the night Lordaeron wed my daughter Sansa.” He answered with his head bowed, ashamed of his words.

“Was King Robert not your friend? Yet this treason you bore in silence.”

“Robert was my friend in our youth. The man he became as king was a stranger to me… and matters regarding our Houses have been complicated, my queen.”

“Indeed, how could you call my brother's kindred traitors when you were a traitor to King Robert as well?”

They stood silently, measuring one another with stern expressions.

“Tell me, Lord Stark, since it seems my mother has conspired with all save myself in these matters. What shall we do? Shall I surrender the crown to my brother and nephew, an act which surely most will not abide. Or shall I abdicate in favor of Lord Stannis so that your friend's reign shall continue through his brother? Or shall we place Rhaegar's heir upon the throne?” Her voice was raised by the end of her words, her cheeks tinged red.

They all looked to Jon, knowing the truth of his birth. Would they have the support for Jon to be the King?

Suddenly there was a knock upon the door. A moment later, Jaime and two others of the Kingsguard entered with a page who held a letter in his hand.

“Your grace,” the page interrupted. “News from Lord Stannis. He has been attacked by the Golden Company in the bay. The remnants of our fleet are retreating here but are under pursuit.”

As he was yet speaking, another page arrived. “Ill news, your grace,” he said. “The king.” He hesitated. “My Queen, the king has died.”

Lordaeron reached his hand toward his sister and she clasped onto him with all her strength. “My lords, call the council and the lords who are present together in one hour in the throne room. We must now decide the fate of our people.”

There were bows from those who had gathered and murmurs of agreement as they turned and left. “Lord Stark, Ser Jon, and Ser Jaime, please remain.”

Then they were alone again. “The gambit our families have played is a long one,” she said. “Now I fear it must soon be revealed or unravel to our assured destruction. Our fates are tied. Targaryen, Lannister, and Stark are bound by blood and marriage. Lord Stark, your children are cousins to Houses Tully and Arryn. That must be leveraged when later you meet with the lords.”

Lord Stark gazed at her curiously. “Will you not be there as well, your grace.”

She grimaced slightly, squeezing Lordaeron’s hand. “I am uncertain whether or not I will be able. This child feels as though he or she may make an entrance into this world soon. Though the labor pains may be false as has happened with my girls. Should I be unable to rule as my daughter’s regent, Lordaeron will be regent.”


	4. Viserys: The Exiled Prince

**ELEVENTH MONTH, 307 AC**

Dragonstone was smaller than he remembered. The great carved dragons, the vast feasting halls, and intricate décor, while still grand, did not seem the same as when he had been a boy of seven years. Even with though years had changed his perception, Viserys Targaryen was home at long last.

He should have been happy, but he wasn't. The man he called Aegon and nephew sat in the place Viserys had fought his whole life to claim. His mother and sister were his enemies. His mother had abandoned him, betrayed him. She had birthed a son to the Usurper’s Dog and wed little Daenerys to the Usurper’s son.

It wasn't right.

The crown should be his. Daenerys should be his. He had fought for his survival for so many years. The throne was within his grasp. He would not lose it now.

Aegon, if that was his true name at birth, was the king. Viserys was his heir.

Heir…. As if such a title were enough for the son of King Aerys II.

Viserys had always been cautious of the man who claimed to be Rhaegar's son. They had met a decade ago within the sprawling manse of Illyrio Mopatis. The meeting had been tense, but both Viserys and Aegon had seen the use in allying themselves with one another. For a time Viserys had believed the story Illyrio had fed them. He had wanted to believe that Rhaegar’s son had been whisked to safety, switched with another infant to keep Rhaegar’s heir safe. But as the days, months, and years, wore on, he grew increasingly skeptical of the man’s birth. Too convenient was the tale of Aegon’s rescue from the Red Keep. Too long was the gap between his rescue and Lord Jon Connington’s arrival for it to be trusted.

Princess Arianne also had her doubts. Prince Viserys had met and wed Princess Arianne Martell at her mother's residence in Norvos. They had briefly discussed changing the betrothal contract so that she would wed Aegon, but the vow was fulfilled as written.

Aegon needed both Viserys and Arianne backing his claims. Viserys needed an army to return to Westeros, so they worked together.

Arianne's uncle, Prince Oberyn Martell, had worked hard to arrange their alliance. He had also been the leading influence behind the allegiance of the Tyrells. He and Lord Willas Tyrell had a reportedly cordial relationship. With the support of the Tyrells had come Lord Renly Baratheon, eager to gain a higher status than he could as the youngest brother of the Usurper. With Renly had come the tantalizing news that Robert Baratheon had left no legitimate heirs.

So they had fought together against the men who had betrayed his father. The victory, oh it had been glorious. Even the fires that had burned in the home of his childhood had felt like a welcoming. It was a pity that Prince Oberyn was slain in the battle, he had been useful.

If only Viserys could have seen his mother and sister. Mother should have been proud of him, of all that he had accomplished. Of the fact that he had survived for so long on his own, abandoned and forgotten. But now he was home, in Westeros, in Dragonstone.

They would return to King's Landing eventually; for now, the city was under reconstruction. The wildfire had left most of the Red Keep and the southern half of the city largely in ruins. It would be years before the city was rebuilt. With winter now settling upon the land, rebuilding would be slow. Winning Westeros would have to wait, at least until the weather warmed.

He stood in Aegon’s Great Hall, running his fingers along the cold wood of the Painted Table. It was here that his ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, had planned his invasion of Westeros. Viserys recalled running his fingers along the ridges of the table when he was a boy. The world would have been Rhaegar’s at that point, but Viserys had loved their history. He had loved Rhaegar.

“I shall avenge you brother,” he whispered. “I will reclaim what was stolen from you.”

He would have peace with his sister and mother. Alessia had always told him that they would have fled to Essos as well if his mother had not been so weak from childbirth. Arianne assured him that his sister and mother had spent their lives as little more than prisoners. He wanted to believe his wife. If Arianne spoke true, surely he could bring peace between himself, his mother, and his sister. Surely they would see that the throne was truly his.

With a sigh he caressed the carved mountain that was Casterly Rock. His family would name him king when his rival’s time was at an end. He knew that he should go to Arianne or to their daughters. Alyssa was three now, and Baela a year old. Arianne would have a son next, she must have a true heir to the throne.

Or he could go to Aegon. He could watch as the poison worked within his blood.

No, the risk was far too great for that.

He must go to his wife. They would face the news in the morning. They would look on in shock as the news arrived of Aegon’s demise. The poison would work quickly, leaving no trace. That he had managed to procure such a potion and slip it into Aegon’s drink had been no small feat.

Arianne’s shock would be genuine, she knew nothing of his plan. But she would rise to the task, his beautiful Queen. Together they would rule Westeros.


	5. Jon: The Bastard King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! Really and truly done! I'm sorry for the delays, but the muses decided to finally let me finish! Thank you all for reading, following, and commenting.
> 
> At some point I may post outtakes from the story after Chapter 7 which is the listing of all the Great Houses and their descendants. There are scenes that are half-written or thought through that I really like but they didn't fit into the narrative, so one of these days I might just post them too.
> 
> Jon/Shireen is now my OTP because of writing this chapter.
> 
> I'm happy that I got to be a nerd with some of my original character names by making references to Warcraft and Elder Scrolls.
> 
> Please check out the artwork with HandofSilver on Tumblr made for the story: http://handofsilver.deviantart.com/gallery/57704898/Devious-Folder  
> http://handofsilver.tumblr.com/post/138633035815/art-made-for-bluegoldrose-ao3-and

**Jon: The Bastard King**

**FIFTH MONTH, 307 AC**

Far below the tower gardens the ocean swelled and crashed soundlessly. Casterly Rock was by far the largest structure, aside from the Wall, in all of Westeros. Partly made of a mountain and partly built by human hands, in all the world no structure was safer from an enemy's approach. This was where the Royal Court had fled when King's Landing fell. This would be the new capital of Westeros.

There were no birds singing or insects flittering about in the gardens. The flowers were dying as autumn turned into winter. After the council of the lords was held, the wars would come to a halt until spring’s return.

Ser Jon Targaryen stood in the dying gardens, breathing the chilly salt air. He wished for a heart tree. Too many months had passed without the presence of his father's… or rather his mother's gods. He missed Winterfell, his childhood home. He missed Arya, Rickon, and little Lynarra. He missed being a Snow.

He laughed out loud at the thought of missing his bastard status. He had wanted for so many long years to be more than a bastard. Now he wanted little more than to be away from the complicated mess that was the world and his birth father's family.

“Ser Jon?”

Jon turned to see Shireen Baratheon walking toward him from the castle. He inclined his head to her. “Lady Shireen.” He felt a stab of guilt that he had not yet spoken with her. They both knew the plan, concocted by Lady Rhaella, Lord Stark, and Queen Daenerys, yet it was Jon’s duty to speak with Shireen about the finer details which had been decided.

“Ser Brandon told me that you might be up here.”

He gave her a wry smile. Apparently Bran was now giving away his hiding places. “I like coming here to think,” he said simply. “It's hard be alone with one’s thoughts elsewhere in this place.”

“I can understand that desire.” She closed her eyes and breathed deep. When she opened them again she regarded him carefully. “I wonder how long this will be our home?”

“As do I, my lady. It seems that for the winter we can do little regarding my uncle and possible half-brother's war on our lands.”

“And my uncle,” she said softly. “He is our enemy as well.”

Jon bowed his head. Lord Renly Baratheon’s betrayal had been a hard one for everyone in Daenerys's court. “I am sorry for that. I also am sorry for you loss, if I neglected thus far to speak with you on that matter. Your father was a good man.”

Lord Stannis Baratheon had died on the journey from King's Landing through the Riverlands to Casterly Rock due to wounds he had sustained in the battle. Daenerys had been nearly inconsolable at his death. Shireen, however, seemed far more detached regarding the death of her father.

“Thank you.” She walked past him to the wall by the edge of the cliffs. He followed her, standing near her in the quiet afternoon. “Daenerys suggested that we needed to speak before the council meets.”

He sighed deeply, it seemed that he had hesitated too long. “I had planned to speak with you soon.”

She turned to him; a small smile playing upon her lips. “Dany spoke with me as a friend, not as the soon to be former queen.”

“I wanted to wait until the time was right to speak with you.”

“Time is not a luxury we can afford ourselves, my prince.”

Did she realize how much she sounded like her father when she said that? “I agree my lady. I wished to give us time to speak privately and such time has not been easy to find.”

“Are you afraid of the proposal as it has been written?”

“No, not truly. I only… Lady Shireen I have never contemplated marriage let alone becoming the King of Westeros until a few weeks ago.”

She turned her face to the sea, pressing her lips tight together so that her disappointment might not be seen. “I had never thought that I should wed. Or if I would, I had not thought that the man would be so handsome, nor so kind toward myself.”

It was his turn to face toward the sea. He had been trying to avoid the talk of their proposed marriage for over a week. That the truth of his birth was becoming more and more known, and would soon be disclosed to their loyal lords was already more than Jon could handle, let alone marriage. “Do you wish to marry me?”

“Wish?” She sounded distant, as far away as the horizon. “I wished for so long to merely be loved. My father…” Her voice caught. He noticed her hand move to her eyes but he did not look at her. He did not want her to feel embarrassed. “My father was kind but he knew little of affection. My mother shows me less kindness that he ever did. I have no expectations that any marriage for me would be better.”

He did look at her then, shocked. “May I never be so unkind to you that you do not think well of me.” He laid his hand upon her shoulder. “My lady I pray that you do not think so little of me. While this proposal is the best way to unite what remains of the lords, I do care for you. If you are willing to marry me I will do my best to show you that you are loved and held in the utmost honor.”

She blinked back tears that threatened to spill from her deep blue eyes. “Truly?”

He forced himself to be bold. A few months ago he was just a bastard, not worthy of the attentions of a highborn girl. Now he was to be the King of Westeros, and Shireen would be his Queen. He raised his hands to cup her face.  One cheek was cold with greyscale while the other was warm. She was pretty, he realized. Her dark blue eyes and long black hair marked her as a Baratheon. Were it not for her childhood illness, none would have thought her unattractive.

“I want to show you a better life.” He felt the truth of the words as he spoke them. “I want to make you happy. I want you to be my queen.”

A sound between a laugh and a cry sprang forth from her lips. “I should be glad to be your wife then, Ser Jon.”

He smiled at her, so glad of her joy. “Then shall we tell Daenerys that we have come to an agreement?”

She chewed on her lip briefly, for the moment reminding him of Arya. Her face flushed pink. “We should. Though, may I make a request?”

“Whatever you wish, my lady.”

“Will,” she stumbled over her words as her cheeks grew red. “Will you kiss me?” She pulled away from his hands. “I… I don't want the first kiss I have to be before a crowd as I am wed.”

Jon could feel his cheeks burn hot. “I will do that for you.” Her smile in response was one of the loveliest sights he had ever seen. “May I kiss you now?”

She opened her mouth but could utter no response beyond the blush which now crept to the roots of her hair. He reach for her again, pulling her into his embrace. She yielded readily, though she was trembling. He then pressed a kiss to her temple, which was on level with his lips. The he pressed another to her cheek. She relaxed further against him, tilting her head back but closing her eyes tight. He proceeded to press his lips to hers so softly that it was merely a ghost of touch.

Pulling away, she opened her eyes, less fearful now. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He laughed lightly. “My lady I shall do more than that and better for you, I hope.”

She smiled at him, laughing. “I hope so as well, my prince.”

* * *

Fleeing from King's Landing had been the most nerve wracking experience in Jon’s life, until the day his grandmother and adoptive father told the council of nobles the truth of his birth. They gathered in one of Casterly Rock’s many assembly rooms. Jon sat near the front of the room, with Lordaeron to his right and Robb to his left. Sansa, Daenerys, and Bran were also with him, all now knowing who he was. The other three children of Lord Tywin Lannister were seated together, with Tommen and Myrcella. Lady Shireen Baratheon, Lord Theon Greyjoy, and Lady Catelyn Stark were near the front as well. There were around twenty other men and women in the room, all lords and ladies of stature, some of whom he knew.

The issue of succession was currently at issue. Aegon, if he was Rhaegar's son, would have the legal Targaryen claim to the throne. If the Baratheon claim was acknowledged, the throne would fall to Robert Baratheon's legal heir, his niece Shireen. The incestuous nature of Ser Jaime Lannister and his sister, Lady Cersei Lannister, being known and acknowledged eliminated their heirs, including Daenerys's four daughters, from the throne.

The deafening silence as his father and grandmother spoke was unbearable. He focused on the grain of the table the entire time. As they finished, he felt all eyes rest upon him, followed by a din of voices. He looked up, finding Shireen’s eyes, seeing her strength. They were united in this, his Queen, provided the assembled lords concurred.

He felt Robb and Lordaeron, his brothers, briefly rest their hands on his forearms in a gesture of support. Daenerys stepped forward, standing beside her mother.

“My lords,” she called loudly, more than once, until they quieted. “I know that this news is shocking. I scarce believed my mother's words when first she told me. Just as I was loathe to believe what was told me about my late husband's birth. Yet these tales, shocking as they are, are true. What is also true is that in order to defeat my brother Viserys and the pretender Aegon, invaders to our homeland, we need unity. I do not ask any to choose between Targaryen or Baratheon, but instead to choose a unified alliance. Lady Shireen Baratheon, the late Lord Stannis Baratheon's only child, is King Robert's true heir. Ser Jon, the only living child of my brother Rhaegar is the true Targaryen heir. They have agreed to wed one another and thereby join their claims. We ask you, Lords who are loyal to Westeros, please join with us. Stand against the invaders and usurpers.”

Lord Eddard Stark allowed a few moments of murmurings in the crowd before he spoke. “House Stark will stand with Ser Jon and Lady Shireen.”

Lady Rhaella spoke next, as had been planned. “House Targaryen will support Ser Jon and Lady Shireen.”

Lord Tyrion Lannister, now Lord of the Westerlands, stood. “So too will House Lannister.”

Lord Theon Greyjoy was next, looking at Jon with a small smirk. “The Ironborn will stand with you.”

Slowly, little by little, the assembly agreed, some with enthusiasm and others with trepidation. Lord Robert Arryn, the fifteen year old Lord of the Vale, spoke his loyalty along with his ward, Lord Royce. Lady Catelyn Stark swore the loyalty of House Tully on behalf of her three year old nephew, Lord Jason Tully.

Jon’s eyes fell again upon Shireen amidst the tumult of voices. They would be King and Queen of Westeros.

* * *

The Great Hall of Casterly Rock swelled with the nobles who had been called for the announcement of succession. Three months had passed since King's Landing’s fall. Three months filled with uncertainty and planning for the future.

Today was the day Daenerys would officially renounce her claim and the claims of her daughters to the crown. She was still in line to the throne, though she and her girls were last in the line of succession. One of her last acts as Queen Mother and Dowager Queen was to legitimize her daughters as Targaryens.

The room was abuzz with whispers as the assembly grew. They knew why the assembly was called, but formalities were always necessary for royals. Jon still couldn’t help but wonder if any nobles would reject his claim to the throne. Though many lords had agreed to his being named king, he knew that the stigma of his birth would always rest upon his shoulders.

From where he was standing he was invisible to the room, hidden in a curtained side room near the Lord’s seat. Anxiety churned within his gut, there was no turning away from the path before him. Daenerys was the next to join him in the room, she seemed happier now than she had been for a long time.

“Are you ready,” she asked.

“As much as I will ever be, and you?”

She laughed lightly. “I am relieved to be ridding myself of the weight of this crown. Though I pity the burden it will bring to you and Shireen.”

“I feel like Shireen is better prepared to be a queen than I am to be a king.”

“She is her father’s daughter,” Daenerys said proudly. “She will be a good queen and wife for you.”

“I am glad that you think so,” Shireen said, as she appeared behind Dany. “Though I do wish that I had your confidence.”

Daenerys grabbed one of Shireen’s hands and one of Jon’s. “If either of you doubt yourselves, remember who you are. You are the blood of dragons, the blood of kings and queens, all the way back to Aegon the Conqueror.” She turned to Shireen. “All the way back to the ancient Storm Kings.” She looked at Jon. “All the way back to Brandon the Builder in the Age of Heroes. Now, are you ready for my abdication to be announced?”

They agreed with her, not that they could disagree, and walked out of the room where they stood before the vast assembly in the Great Hall. The faces of friends and family were what Jon saw first, reassuring him. His father stood there with Lady Catelyn, Robb, Bran, and Sansa. His grandmother stood there with Lordaeron. He could do this for them, for Shireen, and for Westeros.

He listened to Daenerys as she spoke, seeing her incredible strength. He marveled at her, she who had endured separation from her family throughout her childhood, then a loveless marriage, then the loss of her husband, home, and crown. Even so, she was proud and strong.

He recalled how she had been on the night King’s Landing fell. The attack had been swifter than anticipated and their numbers had not been enough to win. So, instead of fighting, Daenerys had the southern portion of the city evacuated and unleashed wildfire upon the armies of the south. Ser Jaime Lannister had been reluctant to agree with the plan but when he had seen the forces of the enemy, the plan was put into action. They evacuated the castle during the blaze, down through the long passages beneath the castle. Upon the riverbanks they had all watched in horror as the wildfire melted the river and caught in the breeze, lighting the Red Keep ablaze.

It was there, upon the banks of the Blackwater that Daenerys gave birth to her fourth child, short weeks after King Joffrey had died. It was there too, in the feverish heat of the wildfire that Daenerys's three dragon eggs slipped from Jon’s care into the fiery river. Then, to their wonder, those eggs split open with thunderous cracks, echoing against the cliffs. Immediately thereafter, three small creatures had emerged from the flames, dragons, reborn into the world.

Jon recalled the look in Dany's eyes, and in Lordaeron's, as they stared at the life which had emerged into the world out of myth. Dany had then turned to her newborn babe and named her, with a look of triumph, “Visenya”.

Afterward, they had moved from the river and travelled along the coast. As they travelled, Lordaeron held Visenya and helped Daenerys while Jon held the newborn dragons. They had met up with Lord Stannis Baratheon and his men to the north of the city and joined in their retreat toward Riverrun. Along the way, Stannis succumbed to wounds which he had sustained in the battle.

From Riverrun to Casterly Rock Dany had travelled with her daughter and the dragons in a covered cart. Those dragons were now hidden away in a chamber near Daenerys's rooms, away from prying eyes and loose lips. Few knew that dragons had been reborn. Even those who had seen found it difficult to believe.

The dragons would one day be a powerful force to be reckoned with, but for now the hatchlings would need to grow. And when they were grown, Jon believed as Daenerys did, the war would be won for their side.

* * *

The days after Daenerys’s abdication were busy and passed swiftly. Plans were made for Jon’s wedding and coronation while news spread throughout the kingdom of his claim to the throne. The swift pace of events was dizzying.

The haste with which the wedding was prepared for left little time for fancy clothes, lavish feasts, or vast numbers of guests. Nor did it truly allow time for Jon and Shireen to be truly at ease with one another. He was thankful for the hours they had spent together in King’s Landing at dinners with Daenerys, Lordaeron, Sansa, Tyrion, and others. They were not strangers and they did care for one another, which was more than could be said of most marriages made out of necessity.

When the day of their wedding and coronation arrived, Jon and Shireen stood together in Casterly Rock’s Sept, ready to face the future together. She was beautiful, dressed in cloth of gold lined with black fur. Jon wore black, detailed with silver and bearing a red dragon embroidered on the tunic. They walked hand in hand from their marriage ceremony to the Great Hall for their coronation. Daenerys was the one to lay their crowns upon their heads, kissing each as they rose wearing their circlets of gold.

From their coronation they went to the great feasting halls, celebrating the day for all to see. In the morning, letters would be sent throughout the whole kingdom, even to the false King and his followers, declaring Jon as the true king of Westeros and Shireen Baratheon his queen.

******

Jon watched his wife comb and plait her hair. They were married now for three months, yet being married was still such a fresh notion in his mind. He felt an ever growing affection for her. Her smile lightened his heart and her insights kept him on his toes. She sat beside him on all meetings of the council, and was never afraid to speak her position. They were growing as a team, as leaders of the new regime.

He stood behind her and she smiled at him in the looking glass.

“How was your meeting with your father?”

“It went well,” he replied as he took the comb from her and assisted with the thick strands of her hair. “They will be leaving soon for Winterfell.”

“I'm sorry Jon. I know how much your father's presence has helped you.”

It was strange to Jon that, though he was declared to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, he still thought of himself as the son of Eddard Stark. His blood mattered, now more than ever, but he knew that he would always be the son of Ned Stark in his heart. “His presence has been invaluable. I shall miss him, as will Sansa and Bran.”

“Ser Brandon is remaining here?”

“Yes, he wants to ensure my safety and Sansa's. Lord Robert Arryn will be going north; father will instruct him in leadership for the next few years. Lord Jason Tully will go north to be fostered when he is seven.”

Shireen contemplated his words briefly. “I am certain that Lord Royce will enjoy his rule of the Vale in his lord's absence.”

Jon smiled slightly at her reply. “Not too much, we hope. Aegon and Viserys are close enough for discomfort in the Vale. My father has pledged Lynarra to Royce’s grandson and Lord Robert is pledged to one of his daughters just to keep him firmly in our alliance.”

“And what of the other lords? How shall we keep a hold on them now that winter is at our door?”

“Tyrion believes that we must show a lack of fear and believes that due to our strength of numbers many more lords will join us when winter ends. Aegon and Viserys have agreed to peace for the winter.”

“While they attempt to gain allies.”

“Yes, there is that. But so shall we.”

She frowned, turning to face him. “Jon, they call you ‘the bastard king’ in their missives. The only way for us to assure our position is for me to bear you an heir and I have yet to conceive.”

He pressed a kiss to her head, running his hands softly along the edges of her collarbone. “We will have an heir, have faith.”

She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “I am not yet with child, and we have tried for three months.”

He laughed and knelt so that they were eye to eye. “Then we shall try more frequently.” She flushed a lovely shade of pink but remained somber.

“You jest but still the matter stands. With no heir, the Targaryen line falls to Viserys.”

“But the Baratheon line would fall to your uncle after you. The people will not forget that your father was a good leader. They will hear reports of your wisdom. They will grow to see Lord Renly as a pawn of the Tyrells and we will win the lords of the Stormlands from him.”

She considered him thoughtfully. “Lady Margaery’s son is my Uncle Robert's bastard.”

“I've heard that rumor before.”

“It's no rumor. My father told me. He and my uncles discussed the matter before she married Renly. Lord Tywin knew as well. We can use that knowledge to our favor.”

“Duly noted, my lady.”

They looked at one another quietly for some moments. Jon realized that she was considering saying something as her expression changed, growing more serious. “I have been thinking Jon and want to make a request of you.”

“Anything you wish, my lady, I would do for you.”

She smiled half-heartedly, and he knew that whatever she was planning to say he wouldn’t like. “I would not be so quick to agree Jon. I have been thinking about you and I and well, so many things about your life.”

“My life?”

“You were raised as a bastard.”

“I am aware of that,” he replied with a smirk.

She glared at him, sighing with frustration. “And with that upbringing,” she continued, picking her words with delicacy, “you were not always treated with kindness, at least on the part of your father’s wife.”

He stiffened and stood, unsure where her words were going. “Why bring this up?”

“Because I need you to speak with her.”

“Why?” He had little interest in speaking with his father’s wife if at all possible.

“Because I need you to understand why she treated you with unkindness,” Shireen said emphatically.

“What would you know about that,” he spat.

She stared at him, unmoved by his outburst. “More than you realize. Do you know what I think about regarding your birth? I think of Elia Martell, and how it must have felt to be displaced because she could bear no more children. Do you truly think that had Rhaegar Targaryen lived and raised you that she would have treated you kindly? Do you? Because I can promise you that she would have treated you with less kindness than Catelyn Stark ever showed you. Bastards and second wives are hard enough for lords to manage, but for Kings and Queens... And I cannot blame Lady Stark for her coldness toward you because I promise you that if you ever brought home a bastard I would treat that child with less kindness than you were shown.” She started shaking as she spoke, holding back tears which welled in her eyes.

Jon, shocked as he was by her words, walked back to her and drew her into his arms. “I would never forsake you for another my love. I promised you that I wouldn’t be unkind to you or give you cause to think poorly of me. I pray that I may always be true to my promises.  If it will put your mind at ease I shall speak with my father’s wife before she departs for Winterfell. But please, believe me when I say that I shall remain faithful to you, I love you Shireen.”

She was sobbing so hard against him that she couldn’t speak for some time, but she eventually calmed enough to look at him. “But what if I cannot give you an heir?”

He kissed her brow gently. “You will. I believe that you will.” She was about to protest again, but he spoke over her. “And if you never give me an heir, we will claim Lordaeron as our heir. Nothing will change my love of you, I promise.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, and she smiled tremulously at him.

“I love you too.” It was the first time she had ever uttered those words to him.

* * *

Winter’s arrival was harsh, with gusting, biting winds which prevented trade or commerce between regions for months at a time. Even so, fears for the kingdom’s future were relieved as Queen Shireen grew round with child.

In the sixth month of 308 AC, Shireen went into labor. She was attended by Sansa, Daenerys, Myrcella, and Jeyne who all offered support and comfort. Jon stood beside her the entire time, feeling fear in a fresh and visceral way as he watch her bring their child into the world. A son. Born as the snow fell deep and thick around the castle. As soon as the maesters allowed, Shireen ordered everyone from the room except for Jon.

He sat beside her on her bed as she cradled their son. “He's perfect,” Jon breathed in wonder.

Shireen nodded, content. “Have you thought of a name for him?”

“Me? You are the one who labored with him for the past day and carried him all these moons within you.”

“It is tradition, my love.”

He pondered for a moment, looking at the dark hair atop his son's small head. He then considered his beautiful wife. “I have one name if you will agree.”

“What name is that?”

He reached for her hand. “Stannis,” he whispered.

“Oh,” she cried out softly. Struck speechless, she could merely nod as tears formed in her eyes. “That's perfect,” she whispered when she found her voice. Lifting her son gently from her chest she looked at him. “Prince Stannis of House Targaryen, heir to the throne.”

Jon kissed them both, his wife and son. For the first time in his life, he felt whole.

* * *

“They have grown so big,” Daenerys said as she slid her fingers across the scales of Nightfyre. The black and red dragon was the largest of the three, and had claimed her for his owner.

“They aren't yet large enough to ride into battle,” Jon replied. He watched his own dragon, a cream and gold creature he had named Snow.

Lordaeron turned toward Jon and Daenerys as he threw a hunk of raw horse meat to Emerald Dream, the green dragon. “They are almost two years old and this cavern is nearly too small for them. In a year we can ride them.”

“The people have already seen them flying in the evening,” Tyrion added from his seat upon the carved cavern steps. “Rumor will have spread east to your brother Viserys at his seat in Dragonstone.”

“And south to the seats of Highgarden, Storm's End, and Sunspear,” Lordaeron said. “When they see our dragons they will break from him and stand behind us.”

“Behind a bastard king,” Jon scoffed.

“Behind the true king,” Daenerys soothed. “Now that Aegon has died, and word of his death is known throughout the kingdoms, only my brother stands at the head of the armies of the south. He is a stranger to our lands. And surely he longs for our mother's love and approval. She stands with us.”

“Do you expect reason from an exile,” Lordaeron questioned. “Brother he may be, but last he saw you, you were an infant at our mother's breast. He has no cause to be loyal to us.”

“No more than anyone has cause to be loyal to him,” Tyrion interjected. “His power will wane, for he had precious little at the start. The dragons will grow and your power will increase.”

“Why do you doubt, Jon,” Daenerys asked. “Your son grows stronger day by day and Shireen will surely give you more sons. Our alliances stand strong and our forces will be readied for war when spring comes.”

“And when will spring come?” Jon sighed. “King I may be, but until I go out and claim the Kingdom we will lose support.”

Tyrion laughed. “The longer winter lasts the larger these beasts will grow. Scarce little attention will be paid to anything else if you ride a dragon out to war.”

“And what does my brother have to compete with three full grown dragons,” Daenerys said softly. “The armies of the Seven Kingdoms fell before Aegon the Conqueror and his dragons, and they shall again fall before you and these dragons.”

Jon looked to her, seeing the sorrowful confidence on her face, and knew that she was right. Viserys couldn’t hope to win against three dragons. But what would be the cost?

* * *

For four year winter ravaged Westeros. No wars were fought. No fields were planted. The King of the East and South was now Viserys Targaryen, seated at Dragonstone. The King of the North and West was Jon Targaryen, seated at Casterly Rock. Their peace was tacit, waiting for the spring thaw.

Though the war was at a standstill, minor skirmishes were fought along the border of the Westerlands and the Reach whenever the snows stopped. Ships which strayed too far from their territory tended to disappear more frequently than before the war. Neither side ever admitted to piracy, but ships soon learned to stay clear of enemy territory.

Eventually the snows slowed and began to melt. The trees began to bud and the flowers began to poke above the surface of the earth. It was then that the western dragons sent word to Viserys Targaryen, requesting to meet.

It was Lady Rhaella who put forth idea of suing for peace between her son and grandson. She wrote the majority of the treatise and signed it with her daughter, son, grandson, and many of their supporters. Viserys agreed to the meeting and granted a temporary truce between the embittered halves of Westeros.

They agreed to meet at Harrenhal, declaring it a neutral ground and each agreeing to a specific number of soldiers who would attend. Even so, Jon sent word to Winterfell, Riverrun, and the Eyrie to gather their forces in the Riverlands should Viserys prove faithless, and he decided that they would take two of the three dragons with them.

Leaving Casterly Rock was the hardest part. Jon thought of his father, his birth father, and wondered if Rhaegar had thought that he would return to Elia Martell and Lyanna Stark the day he left King’s Landing for the Trident. Jon thought it very likely that Rhaegar had believed he would return home, as so many do when they go to war. In theory, Jon was not riding out to war but to discuss peace, and yet his heart could not rest.

They all stood together at the gates of Casterly Rock. Jon and Daenerys’s dragons were waiting nearby to be ridden all the way to Harrenhal above their armies. Jon kissed Shireen gently in parting, and then he kissed their son upon the black curls of his head. “Should anything happen to me,” he told her, “you will be Stannis’s regent.”

She forced a small smile. “Come back to me.”

“I will,” he promised. He placed a hand upon the slight swell of her abdomen. “I want to see our second child when he or she is born.”

She nodded her head briskly, holding their son’s hand as Jon stepped away, waiting for the rest who were joining him. Daenerys’s girls stood next to Stannis, and she kissed each of them in parting, telling them how much she loved them. She then said her farewells to Shireen, Stannis, Sansa, Arthas, and Elric. When she was finished, Daenerys stood beside Jon.

Lordaeron was the next to say his farewells. He kissed Sansa breathless before kissing their sons goodbye. “I will return to you my love,” he promised. “For you, for our sons, and for the child you carry within you.”

“I will hold you to that,” Sansa replied, trembling.

He kissed her again before he moved to stand beside Jon and Daenerys. Sers Brandon Stark and Tommen Hill were the next to say their goodbyes, hugging their sisters and family as they moved to join those who were leaving.

Lady Cersei Lannister clung to Tommen for longer than he seemed content with, but she did eventually release him, only to face her twin’s farewell. “Don’t leave me,” she said.

“I must do my duty,” he replied.

“And what of your duty to me?”

He cupped her cheek, caressing her softly. “I took an oath to stand beside my King and serve him. I owe King Jon my service, for the debt I owe to his family I can never repay.”

“And what of me?”

He smiled and kissed her. “I have given you three children and we have four grandchildren. No matter what happens to me, you will still have them.” He indicated Myrcella and Daenerys’s girls before he kissed her again, and turned to join the others.

Last to say farewell was Lady Rhaella Targaryen. She looked at all of them, her family. “The gods took so many whom I love from me, and in return they have given me more. Sons, daughters, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Now, I must go and face my son again, whom I sent away so very long ago. May we all return to you in peace, my children.”

They all bent to her before she moved to join Jon, Daenerys, and the rest of their armies. In moments like this, Jon knew that she had never truly stopped being a Queen.

* * *

Having their dragons alight on the grounds of Harrenhal while their armies gathered within their half of the castle was the strongest move that Jon could make for his side. The arrival of the dragons had clearly shaken Viserys’s men, but they did not strike against the beasts.

Jon was glad that he had kept Bran outside of Harrenhal with most of their armies, just in case anything should happen. He only wished that he could have kept Rhaella and Dany away, but they were not to be swayed. The preparations were completed, and within an hour of their arrival, they gathered in the Great Hall.

Twenty armed guards for King Jon stood behind him, Rhaella, Daenerys, and Lordaeron. Twenty armed guards for King Viserys stood behind himself and a petite woman with dark brown hair and olive-toned skin, Princess Arianne Martell as Jon would learn.

“We have come here to discuss terms of peace,” Jon said, breaking the silence. “I am Jon, of House Targaryen, the son of your brother Prince Rhaegar.”

Viserys smirked a little at him, but his eyes kept straying to his mother and sister. “My brother’s bastard as I have heard tell, though you look nothing like a Targaryen.”

“I am trueborn,” Jon said, as confidently as he could manage.

“So says every usurper to every throne. You have no proof, no witnesses.”

“He needs none,” Rhaella said in a quiet yet firm voice. “I have vouched for his claim due to the report given to me by Lord Eddard Stark.”

Viserys stared at her for the longest time, his expression unreadable. “Would you put some bastard before your own son?”

“Oh Viserys,” she said, walking around the table so that she might draw near to him. Lordaeron and Daenerys both reached for her but she stopped them with a shake of her head. She stood a few feet from him when she spoke again. “Were it not for my belief that Jon is Rhaegar’s true heir I would see you on the throne. But believe me when I say that all I have done has been to protect you.”

She held a hand out to him, but he stepped away. “For me?” He shook his head in disbelief, his tone grew harsh. “For me? What did you do for me mother? You sent me away! You stayed here with Daenerys and sent me to survive on my own in Essos. Ser Willem died six years after I was sent away and the servants fled afterward except for Alessia who died two years later. I spent years wandering the Free Cities, hoping for help, selling what little I had. I could have died and you never would have known! For five years I survived on my own until I was brought to Illyrio Mopatis and he protected me, united me to Aegon and the Golden Company and told the Martells that I was alive. Arianne was brought to me and became my wife. None of that was you, mother. Yet here you stand, with my sister and the son of Tywin Lannister and you tell me that you have worked for my protection.”

She stiffened, squaring her shoulders and clenching her jaw, but she softened as she spoke again. “What more could I have done for you? If you had remained with me you would have been killed. If I had tried to find you and give you money we would all have been killed. If Daenerys and I had gone with you, I would have died. All I could do was send you away so that you might have a chance to live. And what I am doing now is the same. Please, my son, be at peace with us. Come home, to me.”

Rhaella held her hands out to him, offering her embrace. Jon tensed, his hand close to his sword. He could feel the tension radiating from Daenerys and Lordaeron beside him.

Viserys stepped toward her in slow, uneven steps. He drew close enough that she could reach out to him and touch him. He relaxed at her touch and embraced her. Then, before anyone could see or stop him, he reached for the knife which hung at his hip, and unsheathed it. The world seemed to slow as Viserys plunged the knife into Rhaella’s heart.

“I am home, mother” he said, a sickly smile on his face.

Screams rang out in the room. Lordaeron pulled out his sword and ran toward Viserys. Ser Jaime Lannister and the rest of the guards ran with him. Viserys’ guards rushed forward to fight Jon’s men. Amid the shouts and unsheathing of steel, Jon pushed the frantic Daenerys from the room.

In the same hall, they were met by the wide-eyed Princess of Dorne. “Help me,” she pleaded with them.

“Help you!” Daenerys was livid. “My mother is dead!”

She was shaking. “I didn’t know. I never know what he will do. One moment he is happy and the next I fear for my life, for the life of my children. Please, spare me, and Dorne will submit to you.”

Jon stared at her, knowing that their time was short. “Come with us.” They ran together, his sword drawn. They ran to the courtyard where their armies waited.

“Treason,” Jon shouted, which was all his men needed to begin their assault on the castle. They reached the dragons minutes later as the sound of steel on steel began to ring out in the courtyard. Arianne cowered before the beasts, but even in her terror, she mounted Nightfyre with Daenerys.

As Daenerys and Arianne flew away, Jon mounted Snow and the beast roared. He could feel his blood pulsing in his veins. Fury and fire filled him. They took flight, and as quickly as the battle had begun in the courtyard, the men who had claimed fealty to Viserys Targaryen began to flee.

The wide doorways of Harrenhal were so large that Jon was able to enter the halls while still mounted upon his dragon. When they returned to the hall where Rhaella lay dead upon the floor, he could see that most of Viserys’ men were dead or missing. While some of Jon’s men were missing, doubtless chasing after Viserys’ guards, only two, including Ser Jaime Lannister, lay dead.

Viserys and Lordaeron were attacking one another with their swords. Bloodied, the brothers struck at one another wildly, hacking and slashing with anger rather than skill. And though it seemed as if Lordaeron would win, he slipped on the blood slick floor. Viserys, seizing the moment, stabbed forward with his blade, impaling Lordaeron.

Jon screamed, wrathful. He ordered Snow to breathe fire upon Viserys. Moments before the flames licked his body, the second son of Rhaella and Aerys Targaryen realized there dragon was in the room. His screams ended quickly.

Word of Viserys’s death spread quickly as Jon and Snow left the Great Hall. The men who had been sworn to Viserys fled in droves, terrified at the fury of King Jon Targaryen and his dragons.


	6. EPILOGUE: A Brief History Following the War of the Exiled Dragons

**EPILOGUE: A Brief History Following the War of the Exiled Dragons**

Dragons never forget.

Dragons hide in the secret places of the world, biding their time until they are ready to be remembered.

The former Queen, Rhaella Targaryen, upon her death at the hand of her own son, was mourned by her daughter, step-children, and grand-children. A month of mourning was decreed for the whole country in her honor. Her funeral pyre burned between the pyres of her sons, a tragic end to a tragic life.

The army of Prince Viserys Targaryen was quickly brought to heel, none wishing to be burned alive by the dragons.

The presence of Princess Arianne Martell and her children in the King’s custody ensured the loyalty of Dorne. The people of Dorne would not act against their beloved Princess and her brothers wished her no harm. So it happened that for the only time in their history, Dorne bowed.

Lord Renly Baratheon and his wife were not as fortunate as the Martells. Lord Renly, Lady Margaery, and several of their lords were executed by dragonfire. Lord Willas Tyrell, upon witnessing the death of his sister, vowed fealty to the King. His eldest sons, along with young Steffon Baratheon, were taken as wards of the crown.

King Jon Targaryen, the first of his name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men, along with his wife, Queen Shireen Baratheon, rebuilt King’s Landing as the capital of Westeros, expanding the city beyond its original boundaries. They would work tirelessly to mend the wounds which had been inflicted upon the land and its people. The task was not easy, and it would be many long years before the kingdoms were truly at peace. Minor skirmishes would break out for many years after Jon took the throne. Alliances were slowly made through threat or marriage, whichever worked.

While healing the land was achieved through pacts and time, healing the people most affected by the war was a far more difficult task.

Princess Arianne Martell, Queen to Prince Viserys Targaryen, would remain within the court of King Jon for the rest of her life. Though she was by birthright the ruling Princess of Dorne, and welcomed into the King’s peace, she was not trusted enough to be returned to her homeland. She was granted many freedoms, such as visits from members of her family and free movement throughout King’s Landing, but she would never return to Dorne. She would also never remarry, though she would have a lifelong companion in a man named Daemon Sand. While she and her children were welcomed into the court, there were still fears that one of her children would seek to claim the throne as Viserys had done. To stave off threats the King chose the futures of her children. Princess Alyssa Targaryen was wed to Jon’s second son, Prince Rhaegar, so that one day they might rule in Dorne. Princess Baela Targaryen was wed to Arthas Lannister. Prince Daeron Targaryen was sent to the Wall to serve as a member of the Night’s Watch.

Lady Sansa Lannister, widowed when her husband was slain by his half-brother, mourned her husband for many years after his death. Their daughter, born shortly after his death, was named Rhaella in memory of the child’s grandmother. Lady Sansa and her three children lived in Winterfell for several years after her husband’s death. She would eventually remarry and have other children. The singers have said that she never loved her second husband as much as she loved her first. Elric Lannister would one day wed his cousin, Celia Tully. Rhaella Lannister would one day marry her cousin Rickard Stark, the eldest son of Robb Stark, heir of Winterfell.

Princess Daenerys Targaryen, the former Queen of Westeros, and her four daughters would live their lives within the royal court. Many would seek her hand in marriage, but she would never marry again, nor was she ever reported to take a companion. Princess Daena, her eldest daughter, would one day wed Prince Stannis Targaryen and rule as his queen. Princess Rhaelle would die young, in an outbreak of Spring Sickness. Princess Elaena would never marry, though she would always have suitors vying for her hand. Princess Visenya would marry Bryan Tyrell, the Heir of Highgarden, under somewhat scandalous circumstances, after which they were not welcomed back into the crown’s favor for several years.

King Jon and Queen Shireen would have ten children together, six daughters and four sons. The children who grew to adulthood were all instrumental in bringing together the nation. Their political marriages and acts of diplomacy would help to ensure that the future generations would see relative peace.

Along with many other reforms enacted by the King and Queen, formal laws of inheritance for the crown were established. Some suspect that the change was due to Princess Arianne’s influence at court, others believe that Princess Daenerys and Queen Shireen were the major influences of the law. Following the traditions of the Rhoynar, the eldest child, male or female, would be the heir to the throne.

As for the dragons themselves, they began to breed. The three dragons, born of a miracle during the night King’s Landing fell to Princes Aegon and Viserys, thrived. None can say what caused their sudden rebirth, just as none can explain why they had been extinct. The dragons would increase so greatly in number that all of the descendants of Queen Rhaella Targaryen, to the third generation, would become dragon riders.

It came to pass, when King Jon was growing old and grey, that the dragons would gain great purpose. Evil stirred in the far north, beyond the cold expanse of the Wall. The dragons, animal and human, would ride forth with their armies. No report would come back for many long months. The world grew steadily darker as winter held Westeros firmly within its grasp.

Then one day the sun rose again, melting the deep snows. The long winter was ended and spring had come at last. And from the far north, the dragons returned again.

 


	7. Families of Westeros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this story! I have enjoyed writing it. This has been a challenge but one that I have loved. There are huge sections of this story where I would have loved to expand on the relationship building, but the pace of the story and the time constraints on the writing were not conducive to doing that. So, I will probably post some outtakes at a later time.
> 
> Thanks to joannalannister for your work in finding me an artist and setting up the Big Bang and to hand of silver for your beautiful artwork!

(A guide to many of the births, marriages, and deaths in this tale. This is not an exhaustive list and does not include marriages mentioned in the epilogue.)

 

The Great Lords:

In the North:

House Stark: Lords Paramount of the North and Wardens of the North

Lord Rickard Stark (d. 282 AC)

                Lady Lyarra Stark (d. before 280 AC), his wife

                Their Children:

                Brandon (262-282 AC), Eddard (b. 263 AC), Lyanna (266-283 AC), and Benjen (b. 267AC)

 

Lord Eddard (Ned) Stark (b. 263 AC), Lord of Winterfell

                Married in 283 AC to Lady Catelyn of House Tully (b.264 AC)

                Children and some descendants of Eddard and Catelyn:

                Robb Stark (b. 283 AC)

                                Married in 301 AC to Lyra of House Mormont (b. 282 AC)

                                                Children of Robb and Lyra:

                                                  Rickard (b. 302 AC), Serana (b. 304 AC), Donnor (b. 305 AC), and Gillianne (b. 307 AC)

                Sansa Stark (b. 286 AC)

                                Married in 303 AC to Lordaeron of House Lannister (285-311 AC)

                                                Children of Sansa and Lordaeron:

                                                Arthas (b. 304 AC), Elric (b. 306 AC), and Rhaella (b. 311 AC)

                Arya Stark (b. 289 AC)

                                Married in 306 AC to Benfred of House Tallhart (b. 281 AC)

                Brandon (Bran) Stark (b. 290 AC)

                Rickon Stark (b. 295 AC)

                Lynarra Stark (b. 299 AC)

 

In the Riverlands:

House Tully: Lords Paramount of the Trident

Lord Hoster Tully (d. 299 AC)

                His wife, Lady Minisa (d. 275 AC), of House Whent

                Children of Hoster and Minisa:

                Catelyn (b. 264 AC), Lysa (266-297 AC), and Edmure (272-307 AC)

 

Lord Edmure Tully (272-307 AC), Lord of Riverrun

                Married in 298 AC to Lady Eleanor of House Lychester

                Children of Edmure and Eleanor:

                Minisa (b. 298 AC), Carellen (b. 299 AC), Jason (b. 304 AC), and Celia (b. 307 AC)

 

Lord Jason Tully (b. 304 AC)

 

In the Iron Islands:

House Greyjoy: Lords of the Iron Islands

Balon Greyjoy (d. 301 AC), Lord of Pyke

                Alannys Harlaw, his wife

                Their children:

                Rodrik (274-289 AC)

                Maron (275-289 AC)

                Asha (b. 276 AC)

                                Married in 300 AC to Thormor Ironmaker

                Lord Theon Greyjoy (b. 279)

                                Married in 301 AC to Gysella Goodbrother

 

In the Vale:

House Arryn: Lords Paramount of the Vale and Wardens of the East

Lord Jon Arryn (d. 303 AC), Lord of the Eyrie

                Lysa Arryn (266-297 AC) His wife, of House Tully

                Their son:

                Lord Robert (Robin) Arryn (b. 292 AC)

 

In the Westerlands:

House Lannister: Lords Paramount of the West and Wardens of the West

Lord Tywin Lannister (242-307 AC), Lord of Casterly Rock

                Married in 263 AC to Joanna Lannister (245-273 AC)

                                Descendants of Tywin and Joanna:

                                Cersei Lannister (b. 266 AC), Queen of Westeros (284-304 AC)

                                                Married to King Robert Baratheon in 284 AC, no issue

                                                Children and some descendants of Cersei and Jaime:

                                                Joffrey (Baratheon) (286-307 AC), King of Westeros (304-307 AC)

                                                                Married in 302 AC to Daenerys of House Targaryen

                                                                Children of Joffrey and Daenerys:

                Rhaelle and Daena (b. 303 AC), Elaena (b. 304 AC), and Visenya (b 307 AC)

                                                Myrcella (Baratheon) (b. 290 AC)

                                                Tommen (Baratheon) (b. 291 AC)

                                Jaime Lannister (266-311 AC)

                                                (see above)

                                Lord Tyrion Lannister (b. 273 AC)

                                                Married in 303 AC to Jeyne of House Westerling (b. 283 AC)

                                                Children of Tyrion and Jeyne:

                                                Norwin (b. 305 AC), Rohanne (b. 307 AC), and Ella (b. 311 AC)

 

                Married in 285 AC to Lady Rhaella of House Targaryen (245-311 AC)

                                The child of Tywin and Rhaella:

                                Lordaeron Lannister (285-311 AC)

                                                Married to Sansa of House Stark (See House Stark)

 

In the Reach:

House Tyrell: Lords Paramount of the Reach and Wardens of the South

Lord Mace Tyrell (around 256-308 AC), Lord of Highgarden

                Alerie of House Hightower (b. around 259 AC), his wife

                Children of Mace and Alerie:

                Lord Willas Tyrell (b. 276 AC)

                                Married in 299 AC to Ellyn of House Ashford

                                Children of Willas and Ellyn:

                                Bryan (b. 300 AC), Jeremy (b. 302 AC), Gordan (b. 304 AC), Meredyth (b. 307 AC), and Janna (b. 310 AC)

                Garlan Tyrell (b. 277 AC)

                                Married in 297 AC to Leonette of House Fossaway (279-306 AC)

                                Children of Garlan and Leonette:

                                Rohanne (b. 299 AC), Eustace (b. 300 AC), Helicent (b. 304 AC), and Willam (b. 305 AC)

                Loras Tyrell (b. 282 AC)

                Margaery Tyrell (283-311 AC)

                                Married in 302 AC to Lord Renly (277-311 AC) of House Baratheon

                                “Their” son:

                                Steffon Baratheon (b. 302 AC)

 

In Dorne:

House Martell, Princes of Dorne

Princess Meria Martell (d. 283 AC)

                Her children:

                Prince Doran Martell (247-301 AC)

                                Mellario of Norvos, his wife

                                Children of Doran and Mellario:

                                Princess Arianne Martell (b. 276 AC)

                                                Married in 302 AC to Prince Viserys Targaryen (276-209 AC)

                                                Children of Arianne and Viserys:

                                                Alyssa (b. 303 AC), Baela (b. 306 AC), and Daeron (b. 308 AC)

                                Prince Quentyn Martell (b. 281 AC)

                                                Married in 303 AC to Gwyneth (b. 287 AC) of House Yronwood

                                Prince Trystane Martell (b. 287 AC)

                                                Married in 306 AC to Valena of House Wyl

                Princess Elia Martell (256-283 AC)

                                Married in 280 AC to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen (259-283 AC)

                                Children of Rhaegar and Elia:

                                Rhaenys (280-283 AC) and Aegon (281-283/307 AC)

                Prince Oberyn Martell (257-307 AC)

                                The bastard daughters of Oberyn, known as the Sand Snakes:

                                Obara (b. 272 AC), Nymeria (b. 275 AC), Tyene (b. 276 AC), Sarella (b. 281 AC), Elia (b. 285 AC), Obella (b. 287 AC), Dorea (b. 291 AC), and Loreza (b. 293 AC)

 

The Royal Houses:

House Baratheon: Kings of Westeros, Lords of the Stormlands, Crownlands, and Dragonstone, Lords Paramount of the Stormlands, Usurpers of the Iron Throne

Lord Steffon Baratheon (246-278 AC)

                Cassana Estermont (d. 278 AC), his wife

                Their children:

Robert Baratheon (262-304 AC), Lord of Storm’s End (278-283 AC), King of Westeros (283-304 AC), Usurper of House Targaryen

                                Married in 284 AC to Cersei Lannister, no legitimate heirs

                                His known bastards:

Mya Stone (b. 279 AC), Gendry (b. 284 AC), Edric Storm (b. 287 AC), and Barra (b. 298 AC)

                Stannis Baratheon (264-307 AC), Lord of Dragonstone

                                Married in 287 AC to Selyse of House Florent

                                Their child:

                                Queen Shireen Baratheon (b. 289 AC)

                                                Married in 307 AC to King Jon of House Targaryen (see House Targaryen)

                Renly Baratheon (277-311 AC), Lord of Storm’s End

                                Married to Margaery Tyrell (see House Tyrell)

 

House Targaryen: Kings of Westeros, Lords of Dragonstone, Lords of the Crownlands, the Fallen Kings

Rhaella Targaryen (245-311 AC), Queen of Westeros 262-283 AC, Lady of Casterly Rock 285-307 AC

                Her husband, King Aerys I (244-283 AC), the Mad King, reigned 262-283 AC

                                Their children:

                                Prince Rhaegar Targaryen (259-283 AC)

                                                Married in 280 AC to Princess Elia Martell (256-283 AC)

                                                                Children of Rhaegar and Elia:

                                                                Rhaenys (280-283 AC)

                                                                Aegon (281-283/307)*

*In or before 297 AC a boy claiming to be Aegon emerged in Essos. He gained the support of Viserys Targaryen, the Golden Company, and Dorne. He overthrew the Lannister/Targaryen/Baratheon regency in 307 AC. He proclaimed himself King of Westeros, but died that same year. The veracity of his claim cannot be confirmed or denied.

                                                Unverifiable marriage in 282 AC to Lady Lyanna of House Stark (266-283 AC)

                                                                Their child:

                                                Jon (Snow) Targaryen (b. 283 AC), raised as the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark, Crowned King of Westeros in 307 AC

                                                                                Married in 307 AC to Shireen Baratheon (b. 289 AC)

                                                                                Children of Jon and Shireen:

Stannis (b. 308 AC), Rhaegar (b. 311 AC), 2 more sons, 6 daughters

                                Prince Viserys Targaryen (276-209 AC), King in Exile 283-297 AC, Disputed King of Westeros 307-311 AC

                                                Married in 302 AC to Princess Arianne Martell (b. 276 AC)

                                                                Children of Arianne and Viserys:

                                                                Alyssa (b. 303 AC), Baela (b. 306 AC), and Daeron (b. 308 AC)

                                Princess Daenerys Targaryen (b. 284 AC), Queen of Westeros 304-307 AC

                                                Married in 302 AC to Joffrey (Baratheon) (286-307 AC)

                                                                Children of Joffrey and Daenerys:

                Rhaelle and Daena (b. 303 AC), Elaena (b. 304 AC), and Visenya (b 307 AC)

 

                Rhaella’s second husband: Lord Tywin Lannister (242-307 AC), married in 285 AC

                                The child of Tywin and Rhaella:

                                Lordaeron Lannister (285-311 AC)

                                                Married in 303 AC to Sansa of House Stark (b. 286 AC)

                                                                Children of Sansa and Lordaeron:

                                                                Arthas (b. 304 AC), Elric (b. 306 AC), and Rhaella (b. 311 AC)


	8. The Scandalous Princess- 327 AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of several planned additions to this story. I intend to write several more parts to this story, with the years being posted at the top of the chapter and in the chapter's title. Some will take place during the main story and others, like this one, during the epilogue portion.
> 
> Below is a link to the family tree for this story, including many children who haven't been mentioned in the story. (It's a super complicated family tree...)  
> http://www.familyecho.com/?p=ULNVL&c=w3eeoj4wl8&f=860973950773399321
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

** The Scandalous Princess **

**327 AC**

Princess Elaena Targaryen was seated, legs tucked beneath her, reading a lengthy tome on the history of Braavos. Some day she would go there, though she was content to remain in King’s Landing for now. She looked up to where her sister Daena sat across from her. Daena was feeding her first-born son, Aegon. Some day the year old boy would be king, King Aegon VI or VII, if the man who had claimed to be Prince Rhaegar's son counted in the line of Kings.

Elaena often puzzled over how the maesters would list the rulers of Westeros from King Aerys II Targaryen to King Jon I Targaryen when the histories were completed. She pushed the history of Braavos aside on the table and drew out a parchment, quill, and ink. She began to write the history of succession since her grandfather's death.

_ The Mad Dragon _

_King Aerys II Targaryen- born 244 AC, crowned 262 AC, slain by Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard 283 AC._

_Married to his sister Rhaella Targaryen- born 245 AC, died 311 AC at the hand of their son Viserys. Three children survived infancy- Rhaegar 259-283 AC, Viserys 276-311 AC, and Daenerys born 284 AC._

_Prince Rhaegar was wed in 280 AC to Princess Elia of House Martell- born 256 AC, died 283 AC in the Sack of King’s Landing. Their children- Rhaenys 280-283 AC, and Aegon born 281 AC, died in either 283 or 307 AC._

_Prince Rhaegar took a second wife in 282 AC, Lady Lyanna of House Stark- born 266 AC, died in childbed in 283 AC. Their child was named Jon, born in 283 AC._

_Prince Rhaegar was slain on the Trident by Lord Robert Baratheon._

_ The Baratheon-Lannister Regency _

_King Robert Baratheon- born 262 AC, crowned 283 AC, died 304 AC. Married to Cersei Lannister- born 266 AC. No children._

_King Joffrey Baratheon- born 286 AC, crowned 304 AC, died 307 AC at the start of War of the Dragons. His bastardy, and that of his sister Myrcella and brother Tommen was unmasked, with their true birth father being Ser Jaime Lannister, the twin to Queen Cersei Lannister. Joffrey was wed to Princess Daenerys in 302 AC. Their children- Rhaelle 303-315 AC, Daena born 303, Elaena born 304 AC, and Visenya born 307 AC._

_Queen Rhaelle Targaryen- Queen in name only from her father’s death until Queen Regent Daenerys Targaryen laid aside her daughter’s crown and installed the second Targaryen Regency._

_ The Exiled Dragons _

_King Viserys III Targaryen- born 276 AC, died 311 AC, executed by dragon fire. Self-proclaimed King of Westeros while in exile due to the lack of known male claimants of House Targaryen. King in Exile 283-297 AC, King of Dragonstone 307-311 AC. Wed to Princess Arianne of House Martell in 302 AC. Three children- Alyssa born 303 AC, Baela born 306 AC, and Daeron born 308 AC._

_King Aegon VI Targaryen- born 281 AC, died 307 AC. In or before 297 AC a boy claiming to be Prince Rhaegar’s son Aegon emerged in Essos. He gained the support of Viserys Targaryen, the Golden Company, and Dorne. They began the War of the Dragons, claiming Dorne, the Reach, the Stormlands, the Crownlands, and Dragonstone in 307 AC. He died under mysterious circumstances that same year. Princess Arianne Martell claims that Viserys poisoned Aegon. King in Essos 297-307, King in Westeros 307 AC._

_ The Targaryen-Baratheon Regency _

_King Jon Targaryen- born 283 AC. Raised as the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. Knighted in 300 AC. Served at Casterly Rock in the service of the former queen, Rhaella Targaryen as she was the wife of Lord Tywin Lannister from 285 AC until Lord Tywin’s death in 307 AC. He later joined the household of Tywin and Rhaella’s son Lordaeron- 285-311 AC. Lordaeron was wed to Lady Sansa Stark, the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully._

_With the children of Dowager Queen Cersei Lannister being revealed as bastards after Princes Aegon and Viserys attacked, the realms threatened to dissolve into utter chaos. After the fall of King’s Landing, Jon’s true parentage was revealed. In order to secure the lines of succession from both House Targaryen and House Baratheon, Jon was wed to Lady Shireen Baratheon, the only child of Lord Stannis Baratheon who was King Robert’s heir._

_Jon and Shireen-born 289 AC, were wed and crowned in 307 AC. After the tragic Truce of Harrenhal in 311 AC, which saw the deaths of Queen Rhaella Targaryen, Prince Viserys Targaryen, Ser Lordaeron Lannister, and Ser Jaime Lannister, the young King and Queen routed out their enemies and established themselves as the true rulers of Westeros._

_The children of Jon and Shireen- Stannis born 308 AC, Rhaegar born 311 AC, Arya born 312 AC, Helaena born 315 AC, Valerion- 317-320 AC, Lyanna born 317 AC, Eddard born 319 AC, Cassana-320-321 AC, Alysanne born 322 AC, and Ravella born 325 AC._

Elaena laid aside the quill and looked up. Many of her cousins and their companions had filtered into the sitting room, scattered in different corners. They were speaking merrily with one another. Some were sewing stiches in delicate fabrics, while others sipped tea and nibbled on sweet cakes.

Daena laid Prince Aegon in his bassinet, considering Elaena curiously. “What were you writing?”

“The history of succession since King Aerys II.”

Her sister laughed lightly. “Whatever brought that notion to your mind?”

“I was trying to decide whether or not Aegon would be King Aegon VI or VII if he ascends to the throne.”

She narrowed her violet eyes, considering. “The seventh,” she said finally. “If the Baratheon regency is ignored, then the Targaryen line is the only one which matters, and King Jon wasn’t revealed as Rhaegar’s heir until after King’s Landing fell. If Aegon was truly Jon’s elder brother, than he was in truth King Aegon VI.”

She pursed her lips. “Perhaps.”

“Are you going to write the history of our family?” Amusement danced in Daena’s eyes.

“Why not? I surely know more about our family than the maesters.”

Daena picked up her flagon and sipped. “Very true, and you are the resident scribe of our family.”

Elaena smiled. Of all the children in House Targaryen, she was the only one whose interests were predominantly academic. She was often compared to her Uncle Rhaegar and her Uncle Tyrion, both of whom were well known for their love of books. Beyond learning and riding her dragon, she had few other interests. While her sisters, cousins, and companions had all taken an interest in affairs of the heart, Elaena had never felt any compulsion to pursue romance. Out of duty, she would entertain young noblemen when her family instructed. She would go hawking, hunting, riding, and dancing with whomever she was supposed to entertain, but had never felt anything beyond friendship for any of them.

Lady Myrcella Lannister, aunt to Daena and Elaena, entered the sitting room. She was trailed by her three children: fifteen year old Joanna, thirteen year old Shireen, and nine year old Jaime. Myrcella was unwed, but her children all bore the name Lannister, just as she did. Officially, she had never named a father for her children, but everyone knew whose children they were. The children all had bright red hair, and so resembled Ser Brandon Stark that a public announcement would have been superfluous. Still, Ser Brandon was in the Kingsguard and Myrcella was a bastard, so their romantic liaisons could never be publicly acknowledged.

Myrcella and her daughters joined Daena and Elaena while Jaime joined Prince Eddard and Princess Lyanna who were playing cyvasse.

“How are my nieces and grand-nephew today,” Myrcella asked.

“Prince Aegon and I are well,” Daena replied.

“I am well,” Elaena said. “And you?”

Myrcella smiled merrily, though some mischief was in her eyes. She glanced at the others before speaking, her voice low. “I am well, though I suspect there will be quite a dramatic scene later.”

Daena arched a brow. “Between?” Myrcella was ever their source of gossip.

“Lovely Visenya and Princess Arya, not to mention the four Queens.”

The four Queens, Elaena mused. Former Queen Cersei Lannister, mother to Myrcella and grandmother to Daena, Elaena, and Visenya. Former Queen Daenerys Targaryen, mother to Elaena and her sisters. Princess Arianne Martell, Queen to King Viserys III. Then there was the reigning Queen, Shireen Baratheon.

Daenerys and Shireen were close as sisters, having spent most of their lives together. Arianne had grown close to them over the years, but the one time Princess of Dorne was a prisoner in King’s Landing, no matter how close she was to the Royal Family. None of the three Queens was fond of Cersei Lannister. No one was particularly fond of Cersei Lannister, though her children and grandchildren all accommodated her presence dutifully.

Once there had been five and six Queens of Westeros alive at the same time and they had all lived at Casterly Rock at one time or another. The fifth and six queens were Elaena’s grandmother Rhaella and sister Rhaelle. Elaena had faint memories of her grandmother Rhaella, now deceased eighteen years, along with her uncle Ser Lordaeron Lannister, and her grandfather Ser Jaime Lannister. Of Rhaelle, she had many more memories, including how different Daena had been when her twin lived. Daena had smiled more before the sickness took Rhaelle from them at ten and two.

Daena was now so quiet, so dutiful. One day she would be queen, a good queen. Visenya on the other hand... she was utterly intractable. She had bedded their cousin Elric, and fought with Lady Sansa Lannister for his hand until the day that Lady Sansa married him off to a Tully. After Elric had been Prince Daeron, the son of Prince Viserys Targaryen and Princess Arianne Martell. Their relationship had ended with the Prince being sent to the Wall. Nothing could tame the youngest daughter of Daenerys Targaryen and Joffrey Lannister.

“What did ‘Senya do,” Joanna asked.

Myrcella’s smile was utterly wicked. “I hear that she ran off with Ser Bryan Tyrell.”

Elaena’s eyes went wide. “She didn’t...”

“Where did you hear that from?” Daena’s tone was cold, but unsurprised; had she known?

“Father told her,” Shireen said, averting her eyes.

“Hush sweetling,” Myrcella scolded quietly. “You know that you have no acknowledged father.” None of the women could repress a laugh at Myrcella’s words. “Ser Brandon Stark told me that a guard saw Visenya and Bryan in the yard as dawn was breaking, a short time later Emerald Dream was in the air with the Princess and Heir of Highgarden upon its back.”

“And why should that cause a scandal,” Daena asked. “Taking a friend for a ride upon dragon back is hardly uncommon.”

Myrcella regarded her curiously. “One of the stable maids saw them... embracing...” The way she said the last word left no doubt that embracing was the least of what the stable maid saw.

Elaena was confused. “Why tell us, and not the King and Queen?”

Myrcella sat back, tossing her long curls behind her shoulders. “Oh they know. Bran was going to speak with their graces after he spoke with me. I am merely awaiting the results.”

* * *

_She is too much like her grandmother_ , Daenerys Targaryen thought, lamenting over her daughter's decisions. Not Queen Rhaella, would that that were the case. No, Princess Visenya Targaryen was like her other grandmother- Dowager Queen Cersei Lannister. Perhaps Dany had been too lenient, allowing Cersei so much time with the girls. Yet after the deaths of so many loved ones, how could Dany refuse her?

She wondered if Visenya had been ill-named, though were that the case surely it would have applied to Princess Daena as well, and Daena was the most dutiful and somber of her four daughters. Daena had not always been so solemn, but that had been before the sickness which took her twin Rhaelle from the world as a girl of ten and two.

While Rhaelle had lived, the twins had been inseparable in everything. They took their lessons together, played their harps together, rode together, trained their dragon hatchlings together, and slept beside one another. They were lovely, spirited children. The shadow of their father’s parentage was oft forgotten by anyone who spoke to the girls.

When Rhaelle died, it seemed as though part of Daena died as well. Her sisters and cousins did cheer her some, but the former brightness of her violet eyes would never fully return. _They had been nearly identical_ , Daenerys reflected, though Rhaelle’s eyes had been green like Joffrey’s.

Daena had cheered since her marriage two years past, and the birth of her son Aegon the following year. Daena had wed Prince Stannis Targaryen, the firstborn son of King Jon Targaryen and Queen Shireen Baratheon. One day, gods willing, they would rule as King and Queen of Westeros.

Elaena was as obedient as Daena. She was studious, proper, and well-behaved. Visenya was nothing like her sisters. Oh she had the same beauty as her sisters, an undeniable beauty and grace which she had inherited from both sides of her family. But Visenya was always a wild one, always rebellious, always reaching beyond her grasp.

Daenerys had never known what to do with her youngest daughter. She had been so proud of the girl who had been born amidst flames, but the world to which Visenya had been born left little time for love. After Arianne and her children arrived at Casterly Rock, Visenya had quickly attached herself to the Dornish Princess and her children. It had been a relief to focus on her elder three daughters while Visenya spent time with the other royal children.

_Is this my fault? Did I cause her this rebellious spirit in her? Did she learn too much from the Dornish? Should I have more firmly asked Sansa to wed her Elric to my Visenya?_

Daenerys Targaryen stood, sighing heavily. Visenya had been gone three days. A day after her disappearance a letter had via raven. _‘I have wed_ ,’ the letter said, signed by the missing princess.

Daenerys left her rooms and found Arianne Martell in one of the many solars of Maegor’s Holdfast. Arianne looked up from the book she was reading, a wan smile on her lips. “Fretting will not bring her home.”

Dany sat beside her, weary. “I want my little girl back. When did she become such a willful young woman?”

Arianne laughed. “She has always been willful, the most willful of the royal children. Do you remember when my cousins met the children? They thought your little Visenya was one of mine.”

“She has always loved you.”

“And I have always loved her. She is not as wild as she wants everyone to believe. She is simply looking for the place where she belongs.”

Daenerys sighed. “We all search for that.”

“We do,” Arianne agreed, with sorrow in her voice. “Our paths were laid out from birth, for good and ill. Visenya has had to forge her own path. She has no claims to anything and has been denied her heart’s desire more than once.”

“So she took the Heir of Highgarden.”

Arianne laughed. “Did you expect any less from your daughter? There have been far more scandalous Targaryens in the past.”

Dany did smile a little. Though her daughter was not the most scandalous Targaryen ever born, she was certainly in the running. “Bryan was pledged to wed Princess Arya, the King’s eldest daughter.”

“An ugly child. Oh don’t look at me so disapprovingly, it’s true. Princess Arya gained her father’s long face, her mother’s large ears, and her mother’s strong jaw. The poor dear is hardly a prize to be won, except for her birth. Visenya on the other hand is beautiful, stunningly so, and a woman. Still, I’ve heard that their graces will marry Princess Arya off to her cousin Steffon Baratheon.”

“They will,” Dany agreed.

Wedding Arya to Steffon was how the King and Queen intended to resolve the issues brought about by Visenya marrying Bryan. The princess would be granted Storm’s End and marry once she came of age. Their union would unite two halves of House Baratheon, and reestablish House Baratheon at Storm’s End.

The princess had been appeased by her new match, and by the punishment which would be passed upon her cousin. Would that Dany could prevent her daughter’s punishment, but the matter was out of her hands.

* * *

Princess Visenya Targaryen awoke as dawn began to creep above the horizon. She walked from the abandoned tower where she and her new husband had spent the night, and made her way to the crest of the cliff where Emerald Dream lay sleeping. Her dragon opened a lazy eye, looking at her. They were the same age, both born as King's Landing fell to her uncles Viserys and Aegon. From hatching, the dragon had been her Uncle Lordaeron’s, but after his death, the dragon bonded to Visenya.

“We must return today,” she said. She wondered what would happen then. Princess Arya would be furious, she knew. Her grandmother Cersei would be proud. Her mother would likely shake her head in disappointment. Princess Arianne would give her a hug and kiss, smiling all the while. The King and Queen, however...

Their wrath could not be helped. She was wedded to Highgarden’s heir, though he had been betrothed to her cousin Arya. She knew that she and Bryan would be punished in some way or other, but also knew that Jon would forgive them eventually.

Jon was her cousin, in truth, though he had always been a father figure for her. Some of her earliest memories were of being held aloft by him. He would be angry, but he would forgive her.

She glanced back to the tower. It was a queer thing that she was wed. She was fond of Bryan, and knew that he loved her well.

_He loved me enough to break his betrothal to the crown._

She had been building toward this eventuality for years, teasing him, giving him gentle caresses and quick kisses. She was last in line to the crown, and would only have lesser men propose to wed her. She had hoped to wed her cousin Elric once, after they had been one another's first everything, but Lady Sansa had married her son off to her cousin Celia Tully.

Visenya had loved her cousin Prince Daeron but he had been sent to the Wall. She had lain with him just once, two days before he left for the Wall. He had flown there upon Valiant, his dragon. Valiant had been one of Emerald Dream’s first eggs. She had wished at times that he would have left her with child, but he had not. He would have no children, and his sisters wedded to others in the family so that the children of Prince Viserys Targaryen would incite no rebellions.

Afterward, she had sought Bryan Tyrell’s attentions. He had been easy to win to her affections. They had been raised together at court and he had always been fond of her. He was both sweet and comely. She was beautiful, unlike her cousin Arya, to whom he had been betrothed.

_Now we are wed, and he cannot be taken from me._

She sighed. They would need to leave soon. She ran a hand along her dragon’s scales before she turned and walked back to the tower. Her husband lay upon a pile of furs, naked but for the cloak draped over him. She knelt beside him and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Arise my love, we must face our Lord the King.”

When he woke, his eyes cracked open slightly before closing again as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She didn't resist him as his fingers slipped beneath the laces of her gown.

“We can wait,” he murmured against her neck. She found herself agreeing with him, and soon found herself naked with her husband.

When they finally left their furs and dressed, half the morning was gone. They ate a light meal of hard cheese and harder bread. Afterward, they gathered their belongings in a sack and mounted her dragon.

* * *

King Jon Targaryen paced the length of his solar after news of Princess Visenya’s return reached him. He knew that he needed to be hard on her and on Ser Bryan Tyrell, though it would be difficult. He thought of his father and wished for some advice. He could not help but compare Ser Bryan to Theon Greyjoy, both raised as hostages. But Lord Eddard Stark was in Winterfell and Jon was in King’s Landing, the King of Westeros. Shireen Baratheon, his wife and queen, had advised him to send the pair from court, forbidding them to return until he deemed the time was right. He had agreed with her judgment, but was loathe to send them away.

He loved his cousin and ward as he did his own children. To forbid them access at court would be a cruel thing. It would also mean that Visenya could not see Princess Arianne, as Prince Viserys’ widow was forbidden to leave King's Landing. It would hurt both Arianne and Visenya to be parted.

Still, Jon was the King and he had to make decisions which were just, even when he loved those he punished.

A rap on the chamber door was swiftly followed by Bran’s raised voice. “Your Grace, Princess Visenya and Lord Bryan Tyrell are here as you commanded.”

Jon walked to his desk and sat. “Enter.”

Bran, Ser Brandon Stark, was the first to enter, followed by Visenya and Bryan, and then by Sers Tommen Lannister and Rollam Westerling of the Kingsguard. The white cloaks of the three Kingsguard swirled around the shoulders of the men who wore them, clean and bright. They were quite a contrast to the travel-stained attire of Visenya and Bryan. Bryan knelt before him, his head bowed low, and Visenya did the same. “Ser Tommen, Ser Rollam, remain outside and close the door.”

When all were settled, Jon looked down at his cousin and former ward. “Rise, stand before me. Explain yourselves.”

“Your grace,” Bryan began, “I have come to love Princess Visenya, and though your grace had promised me to the Princess Arya, my heart could not lay aside its desires.”

“So you betrayed your betrothal to my daughter by running off with my cousin.” Jon's voice was hard and grave.

“We have wed,” Bryan replied.

Before Jon could speak, Visenya cut in. “Our actions are not so dissimilar from those of your own parents.”

“‘Senya,” Bryan gasped, wide eyed.

Jon lowered his head, the beginning twinges of a headache forming. “Ser Brandon, please escort Ser Bryan to one of the antechambers and guard him. He and Visenya shall share the fate I decide.”

The Heir of Highgarden’s protest was stopped by Visenya gently touching his arm. When they were alone, Jon considered his young cousin wearily. “Your actions are hardly fitting for a princess.”

She laughed. “My father was a bastard king and my title is only a courtesy. I am last in line to anything.”

Jon felt the tension in his head increase. How often was “bastard king” still whispered about him? “So you decided to take it upon yourself to elope with my daughter's betrothed.”

“He loves me,” she replied simply.

“You spent years seducing him, of course he loves you. Your duty was to follow my will and that of your mother. Duty does not always allow us love.”

“You allow Ser Brandon to have my Aunt Myrcella as a lover and to father children with her. It's the worst kept secret in Westeros. But I am not allowed to love whom I will?”

_Daeron_ , he realized _. She was still angry that Daeron had gone to the Wall and that Elric had been denied to her before that_. Sighing, he responded. “Bran loved Myrcella before she was a known bastard. They could not marry, and I allow them to carry on discreetly.”

She snorted a laugh. “You call three red-haired bastards discreet? My aunt has your brother or cousin for a lover. Daena will be queen one day. Rhaelle is dead and Elaena has no interest in men or women. My mother remains alone by choice. I had nothing, not Elric and not Daeron, but I could take what I wanted and I did.”

“Love is not for royals,” he said in a hushed voice. “We cannot have what our hearts desire and must instead be ruled by duty. If we find love, it is a gift to treasure. I know that you loved our cousin Daeron, but I had to send him to the Wall. I love him as a son, but he is the son of Prince Viserys and a danger to the throne. Bryan was to wed my daughter. I cannot have this enmity between the two of you. Our grasp on the throne is far too fragile for our family to be divided amongst itself.”

She cocked her head to the side, grinning innocently. “What quarrel have I with Princess Arya?”

His head throbbed, the tension spreading down his neck. “You eloped with her betrothed.”

She shrugged, dismissive. “She's a child. Bryan is twenty-seven and I am twenty, what charms she has will grow I am sure, but he desired a woman, not a child.”

“That isn't the point!” His words were a whip, loud and sharp. “Make peace with my daughter because I will not allow the two of you to tear apart the peace your mother and I have fought so hard to build! You owe her a sincere apology for slighting her. You owe it to myself and my queen as well.”

She dropped her prideful eyes to the ground and began to tremble. He had never yelled at her in her entire life. Daenerys, Cersei, Arianne, Sansa, Myrcella, and Shireen had all scolded her at various times, but he never had quarreled with her over anything, except Daeron, ‘til now. He saw tears fall to the ground before she lifted a hand to dry them. At last, she looked up. She seemed smaller now, younger, frightened.

“Do you hate me?”

“No.” He stood and walked to her, wrapping her in his arms. She trembled against him like a frightened kitten. Eventually he pulled back from her and held her face in his hands. Her saw her eyes, purple and green as Lordaeron’s had been. “I remember you as you were when your mother birthed you amid the flames of this city. I love you as a daughter and could never hate you. You remind me too much of your uncle and grandmother.”

She stiffened with uncertainty, which ones did he mean?

“There is much of Lordaeron and Rhaella in you, little Visenya.”

“Truly?” Her voice was soft, devoid of all her pride and pretense.

He smiled. “Our grandmother was clever and subtle, cunning and manipulative. Lordaeron was vibrant and passionate. We lost them both far too soon.”

She was proud to be compared to Rhaella and Lordaeron, who were little more than mythical heroes in her mind. After a while, she stepped from his embrace. “What will my punishment be?”

He breathed heavily, not wanting to announce his judgement against her. “Banishment from court.”

She tilted her head to the side, confused.

“You and Bryan will have this week to gather your belongings, say your apologies and fare wells. Then you will be barred from my presence and King’s Landing until such a time as myself and the Queen believe is appropriate.”

He could see the wheels of her mind spinning as she took in his pronouncement. She shook her head, shaking. “No.” Her voice broke. “I can’t. You would keep me from you? From my family? From...” Her voice broke again as tears fell down her cheeks. “I won’t be able to see Arianne at all.”

He kept his face a mask as he looked at her, though he longed to hold her as he had when she was a little girl. “You have defied the crown, and that defiance cannot be ignored. I love you as a daughter, but even you must be subject to the crown. Understood?”

Trembling, she nodded her head in agreement. Slowly, she calmed and dried her tears. When she spoke again there was no warmth in her voice, just resignation. “As you command, your grace.”

At the end of the week, Princess Visenya Targaryen and Ser Bryan Tyrell would leave King’s Landing. They would not return for fifteen years.


	9. The Coronation of Queens

**Rhaella 262 AC**

Princess Rhaella Targaryen wanted to run away. Her mother, holding little Prince Rhaegar, was the only thing keeping her feet moving forward. Her father, King Jahaerys II, was dead.

Aerys, her husband and brother, knelt before the High Septon. He stood, now blessed as King Aerys II. Rhaella now knelt on the floor to be blessed and crowned.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't be the Queen.

They stood. The crowd cheered for them, the new king and queen.

But to Rhaella, it resounded with the screams of Summerhall.

 

**Cersei 283 AC**

Lady Cersei Lannister knelt on the cold stone floor in front of the Iron Throne while the High Septon prayed over her and blessed her. She didn't need his blessings, nor did she care for them. Even so, she kept her face pious and reserved.

She was the Queen now. 

She had always been meant to be the Queen.

She should have been Rhaegar’s wife, but now she was the wife of Robert Baratheon. He would have to be good enough, she supposed. If not, she could still maintain power.

She was the Queen, and nothing would take this away from her.

 

**Daenerys 304 AC**

Princess Daenerys Targaryen stood beside her mother and good-mother while the High Septon laid the crown upon Joffrey Baratheon’s head. Daenerys would soon walk forward to have the Queen's crown placed upon her own head. She wondered how her mother had felt when she was the one being crowned. Daenerys prayed that she would be worthy of the crown. She prayed that she would live up to the legacy of her family.

“Rise, King Joffrey Baratheon, first of that name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

When Joffrey rose, everyone knelt for him as they shouted for the king to have a long life. They all rose, and it was Daenerys’s turn. Joffrey stepped to the side as the Septon looked to her.

She stepped forward and knelt. She couldn't hear his words, but she felt a thrill spread through her as he blessed her and placed the golden circlet upon her head.

She was the Queen, as she had been born to be. When she stood and looked out at the crowd, her eyes met her mother's. Rhaella’s eyes shone with unshed tears and overwhelming pride.

House Targaryen was restored at last.

 

**Arianne 307 AC**

Princess Arianne Martell didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be married to Viserys Targaryen. She didn’t want to be kneeling in Dragonstone, in the map room where Aegon the Conqueror had planned his conquest of Westeros. She wanted her birthright. She wanted to be Princess of Dorne.

After the death of King Aegon VI Targaryen, Prince Viserys had wasted no time in crowning himself King Viserys III Targaryen. Now, having been crowned, He laid a golden circlet upon her head.

“Arise, my wife, as Queen Arianne.”

She stood, giving him her best smile. She was his wife and the mother of his children. She could be his Queen, couldn’t she? “My King,” she said, inclining her head to him.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “My Queen. We will rule the Seven Kingdoms together.”

“You will be the best ruler Westeros has known,” she lied.

He seemed pleased by her words. Yet as she looked around the room, she could see unease in the eyes of his lords and commanders. Everyone wondered what the outcome of this war would be. Everyone who knew Viserys was aware that he was unstable.

She knew that they should sue for peace, but Viserys would not want to hear her say that. Still, she would submit to him, praying that the gods would grant her mercy.

 

**Shireen 307 AC**

Lady Shireen Baratheon knelt beside Ser Jon Targaryen in the Great Hall of Casterly Rock. The carpeted dais wasn't terrible to kneel on, a small relief on such an exhausting day. Only married for an hour, everything in her life, and Jon’s, was changing rapidly.

Daenerys stood in front of them, a smile on her face. Her smile faded as she gave them the charges of the throne. Jon and Shireen both repeated the oaths, swearing to serve their people well.

Daenerys then placed gold circlets on each of their heads.

“Arise, King Jon and Queen Shireen, rulers of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men. Long may you both reign.”

Daenerys kissed them as they stood. “I am so proud of you,” she whispered in Shireen’s ear.

Shireen took hold of her husband's hand as they turned to face the crowd. His hand was as clammy as hers. She squeezed his hand, he squeezed back.

Everyone, including the former queens, knelt before them. Shireen and Jon moved to their thrones, and everyone stood.

She caught Jon’s eye, and knew that no matter what the future held, they were in this together.

 

**Daena 350 AC**

Princess Daena Targaryen took her place beside her husband, Prince Stannis Targaryen. They stood at the foot of the throne, ready to kneel before the High Septon. Today they would be crowned King and Queen of Westeros.

She glanced to where her mother and mother-by-marriage stood. They had both been crowned queen at different times, many years ago. Had they felt the weight of this moment just as deeply?

She saw her children, grandchildren, sisters, nieces, nephews, and cousins. She wasn't alone. She was simply the next in a long line, and her family would be there for her.

Even so, she have never thought about how difficult it would be to face this moment. She was Queen because Jon was dead. Jon, who had been father to her since she was a child. Jon, who had been king since Daena was only four years old.

How had her mother faced this moment? How had her grandmothers faced this moment?

This was the legacy of Kings and Queens. This was the legacy of House Targaryen. Daena and Stannis were the next in a line which stretched back over three hundred and fifty years.

Prince Stannis and Princess Daena knelt.

The septon said his words, laying the crown on Stannis, naming him King Stannis of House Targaryen, first of that name. Then he laid a circlet on Daena’s head, pronouncing her as Queen. They stood, and the crowd cheered for them.

“Long live the King. Long live the Queen.”

She looked at her husband, seeing the weight of legacy on his shoulders. She looked at Daenerys and Shireen, knowing that they had stood in this place before her. She then looked at her children and grandchildren, knowing that one day she would be gone, and they would follow in the footsteps of those who had come before.


End file.
